Forever Evil
by Xenitha
Summary: Nightwing is taken captive and exposed as Richard Grayson by the evil crime syndicate from a duplicate universe. Owlman, Thomas Wayne, approaches him, asking for a partnership like that of his own, now-dead Talon. Thinking that Batman and the JLA are dead, Dick accepts reluctantly. My own AU, my own take on New-52's Forever Evil. T for now, could go to M for violence.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Since they're taking forever to deal with Dick Grayson in Forever Evil, and we may not even like the result, I'm doing my own version. This is strictly my own AU, but based on my own canon version of the New-52. Lets me be even eviller if I want to :)

FOREVER EVIL, CHAPTER 1

Dick sat upright in the hard chair they'd chained him to. His ribs hurt from where Superwoman had punched them, but the rest of his body felt worse. Ultraman enjoyed working over his prisoners. Rumor said that Dick was the image of Owlman's lost partner, his own Richard Grayson, Talon.

Listening to the barely restrained arguments between Owlman and Ultraman made it clear that there was no love lost between the two. In fact, there seemed to be a thinly disguised rivalry. Maybe something that could be exploited. He sighed and let himself sink back into a drowse to preserve his energy. He hadn't been fed since they captured him, or given water. Thirst would kill him faster, but he be damned if he'd beg. He had to get out of here.

He woke to the familiar feel of a heavy hand on his shoulder. Bruce? He raised his head and the reality of it all came back like a ton of bricks.

"Don't worry, Richard. I'm here for you," a resonant baritone voice said. "You must be thirsty."

Almost Bruce...almost...Dick glared him in the eye, but his own voice trembled. "Who the hell are you?"

"You should drink," Owlman said, holding a cup of water in one hand. He was Bruce's height and wore a cape and cowl, but it was different.

"I want to know who I'm talking to," Dick insisted, licking his lips, seeing his own reflection in Owlman's eyepieces, the stripe on the Nightwing uniform looking blue. Dick's eyes narrowed.

In a very familiar gesture, Owlman pulled back his cowl. A tall man with Bruce's eyes smiled warmly at him. "My name is Thomas Wayne, Junior," he said, emotion on his face. Love? " In another world, you called me the brother you never had. And you were the brother I always hoped for, " Wayne said.

Dick blinked. This was clearly not Bruce. Bruce couldn't begin to express himself this well. This guy thinks I'm his _brother_? "You're out of your mind!" Dick gritted.

"Many have thought that of me before. When I first came to this earth, I thought I was mad myself. I know you're not the same Richard Grayson I knew. That Richard Grayson is dead, along with most of the world I came from. It was nearly incinerated. Gotham is all but gone. But this is my chance to do it right." He reached behind and unlocked the chains that bound Nightwing to the chair. "And for that...I need your help, Richard."

Owlman stepped away from Dick, turning his back on him. "I don't want what the rest of the syndicate wants. I want something different."

The unfastened chain clanged against the floor. Owlman had only unlocked one cuff. The other still hung from his wrist, along with the length of chain. Nightwing was on his feet. Owlman spun as Dick charged him. "And I want out of here!"

"Why?" Owlman countered Nightwing's strike. "After removing your mask in front of the world, everyone knows your real name, Richard! The Society has already leveled your apartment building in Chicago. You friends have been hunted!" Owlman pulled Nightwing's arm into an arm lock. "Batman is dead," he whispered into his right ear. "The world you knew, both personally and globally is forever gone. Like me, Richard, you need to start over. I'm offering you that chance!"

Dick struggled out of the embrace. "To destroy the world, alongside you?" he spat and swung the chain at his opponent. "No thanks!" He pulled it into a chokehold across Owlman's throat.

"I don't want your help destroying your world, Richard," Owlman grunted. "I need your help saving it from the crime syndicate." Owlman sprang to his feet and flipped Dick over his shoulder. "Your world is a mess! Your Justice League should have cleaned it up and taken control long ago. Ultraman is right about _that _at least." Dick landed at Owlman's feet. "But he's wrong about everything else," Owlman panted. "His goal is nothing less than to enslave your earth and amass its power for himself, driven by his paranoia and fear." Owlman grabbed the back of Nightwing's neck and threw him against the wall. "But on this world, his supply of kryptonite is limited. Ultraman is vulnerable for the very first time." His fingers closed around Dick's throat, face thrust close to his. "This world is either taken over by him or it's taken over by me."

Owlman moved his forearm against Dick's throat. "These are your only options, Richard. Will you help me stop the crime syndicate?"

Dick looked into Thomas Wayne's eyes, so like Bruce's and knew that his options were limited. He had to use what he had. "Yes."

Thomas backed away. "Until we're ready, I have to chain you back up."

"No!" Dick protested.

Thomas shook his head. "You're in no shape to fight me any further, Richard. And if the Syndicate finds you free, they'll kill you."

Dick reluctantly sank back into the chair. Owlman was right. He wasn't in any shape to defy him. He had to wait, to hope that there would be a chance to get away. The expression on Owlman's face puzzled him, an expression that he'd longed for from Bruce for years. Acceptance and...affection. Dick pulled himself up short. Wait a minute. THIS man was a criminal and a murderer, part of a vicious criminal syndicate. He wasn't a friend and he wasn't family, no matter who he looked and sounded like.

Owlman gave him a friendly smile and retrieved the water glass. With care, he held it to Dick's lips and gave him a long drink. As far as he could tell, there were no chemicals in it. He watched Owlman leave the room and began to meditate on his options. It went without saying that he would use every trick he'd ever been taught to bring down the crime syndicate. He'd also been given valuable intel that he had to get to whatever resistance had formed. Some of the League must have survived. Or if not the League, his lip twisted, he could try Ra's al Ghul or maybe even Lex Luthor hadn't sold out yet.

"I've told him that you aren't his Richard Grayson, but he won't believe me," a familiar British voice said crisply. Dick startled and saw a pale-faced, elderly man in a suit and bowler hat.

"Alfred?" he said wonderingly, then realized that this couldn't be his Alfred. This Alfred Pennyworth had the pasty white skin and red lips of someone exposed to Joker poison.

'Alfred' saw Dick's changes of expression and smiled. "Just so. I am Alfred Pennyworth, Owlman's second in command and trusted servant. He asked me to check on you, see if you required food."

Eyes wide, Dick just examined the man and slowly shook his head at the uncanny resemblance. "Unless you make the same chocolate chip cookies that my Alfred does, I think I'm fine for now..."

'Alfred' snorted. "As a matter of fact, I imagine that I do. Young Master Richard enjoyed my baking before he was...uh...taken from us...so abruptly."

"What happened to your Dick Grayson?" Dick asked, suddenly curious.

'Alfred' frowned. "Thomas made a tactical error and told the boy more truth than he could accept. Richard left us and was murdered by the Joker." 'Alfred's' eyes gleamed. "He was left dismembered, decapitated and...ahem...gift-wrapped for Thomas to find."

"I see," Dick said. "So, your Joker is just as wacko as ours is."

"Perhaps. And the correct tense is 'was'. Thomas disposed of the Joker shortly after Talon was killed." The butler approached Dick, eyeing him closely. "Talon was a weak spot in Thomas' armor. It's just as well he was disposed of before I had to take action."

Dick refused to be cowed, even though this duplicate Alfred gave him the shivers. "What was it that drove Talon away?" he asked.

The old man shrugged. "Merely that Thomas had murdered the Graysons. He'd been contemplating adding a partner and the Grayson boy was both intelligent and talented. The Graysons were petty extortionists themselves, but their payoffs to our gang had been dropping off. Action was needed. Thomas decided to become the boy's mentor and guardian as a way to cultivate an emotional bond." 'Alfred' shook his head. "Thomas shouldn't have allowed himself to become so captivated with the child, regarding him as the sibling his own brother couldn't be. We had lied to Richard all of his life until Thomas decided to" Alfred sniffed. "Come clean and tell him the truth. Master Richard stormed out of the manor and into the Joker's hands."

"Bruce Wayne." Dick asked. "What happened to him?" Maybe an ally if he was still alive...

"Bruce Wayne and his parents were all killed that night in Crime Alley. I made sure of that," Alfred said. "Thomas and I planned it that way. And Thomas knows why they had to go. Do you wonder why I am telling you all this?" He bent over Nightwing, voice a low hiss. "I am Thomas' ally and have dedicated my life to his cause. I will not tolerate anyone or anything that puts him in danger, do you understand? If you betray his trust, I will know and I will kill you." He smiled, teeth yellow against the too-bright lips and too-white skin. "And your death will be longer and more painful than Talon's was." With that, the old man stalked away into the darkness, leaving Nightwing alone.


	2. Endings

CHAPTER 2

Author's Note: The story at this point is mostly a novelization of Justice League #23.4 and #25, written by Geoff Johns with a few of my own touches. By the way, the Lorcin L380 is reputed to be hard to field strip, unreliable and is called a "throwaway gun". 

* * *

><p>"Your breakfast, sir," the butler set a china plate on the table before his master and refilled his coffee cup. It didn't do to let standards lapse, even if they were lodged in substandard housing.<p>

Thomas Wayne picked up a slice of toast and began to butter it. "I suppose I should start calling him by his preferred name...Have you seen to Dick's meal yet?" he asked.

"When you are finished, I will attend to him," the old man said. "I wish that you would reconsider, sir. As I have said before, this young man is not the Richard Grayson you knew. You cannot trust him."

"I have made my decision, Alfred," Thomas said, still eating his toast. "I intend to have family again. I won't make the same mistakes with Dick as I did with Richard."

"Ahhh, you do not intend to share all of your thoughts with him, then," Alfred said with satisfaction. "I was concerned. I should hate to be forced to dispose of someone who looks so much like Talon."

"I intend to give Dick as much trust as Talon had," Thomas said sharply. "But it will take some time to...accustom him...to the way we do business. His mentor is dead. He has no choice." He finished his toast.

"Sir, he may prove as recalcitrant as your younger brother did and betray you," the butler said, pouring more coffee.

Thomas' eyes grew misty and his face paled. "Mother and Father had to die, you know that and I thought that Bruce did, too. My father was a weak man. He was spending the entire Wayne fortune on malpractice claims and Mother...My mother was an overbearing sadist." Thomas shuddered. "And she entertained more men than an alley cat. I had thought that Bruce understood that." _My servant Alfred was the only one I could control. Together, we murdered my family. _He remembered the night that his parents had died. They'd been to the movies, to see the new Zorro movie... 

"I want pizza," his little brother, Bruce, had whined.

"You already ate a hot dog and nachos at the movie, Bruce," Martha Wayne's voice was high-pitched with a note that matched Bruce's.

"But I _want_ pizza, Daddy. I want it nowwwwww!" Bruce strode into the alley. All was going according to plan.

Martha tsk'd. "Just buy the boys what they want, Thomas. Their screeching hurts my ears so." She pulled a compact from her purse and began studying her face.

"But we're on a budget, dear," her husband said helplessly. "I need to save every dollar I can to keep the lawyers fed."

She eyed him with disdain. "Just because you can't stop 'slipping' when you put someone under the knife? Those accidents are adding up, Thomas! And it's hard to deny the pattern as anything but your surgical fetish, you idiot."

While Thomas looked back at where his parents had stopped, he nudged Bruce. His brother nodded and played his part. "Mommy, I want a gun like Zorro's. Make Daddy buy me a Lorcin L 380! Bang! Bang! Ban!"

Suddenly, Martha stilled, glancing over her shoulder. "Wait, Thomas," she said.

"What is it, dear?" Thomas looked around nervously.

"I thought I heard someone in the alley," she said.

"Oh, Mother, that's only me," Thomas said. As his parents turned towards him, they saw that he was holding them at gunpoint, his other hand resting on the shoulder of his brother Bruce, next to him. "Put your hands up."

"What are you doing, Junior?" she demanded. "You put that gun away. You do it right now!"

"No," Thomas said calmly, unaware that Bruce was beginning to shake.

"You listen to me!" she said sharply.

"Bruce and I are never going to listen to either of you again. Because Dad's going to let you throw away our money and leave me and Bruce with nothing...unless we do something about it," Thomas said.

"Tommy!" Bruce's thin voice cut him off. "I..I can't."

"What?" Thomas glared at his little brother.

"I've changed my mind. I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad," Bruce's eyes were big and blue, looking up into his.

"We made a plan, Bruce. A deal. Don't you back out now!" Thomas hissed.

"Stop playing around and get back to the Bentley you brats!" Martha said.

"I'm not playing, Mother," Thomas said coldly and raised the gun.

"No, Tommy!" Bruce shouted and threw himself on his brother. While the two struggled on the ground, Martha pushed in to separate them.

"You stop this foolishness! Eight lashings for each of you!" she squealed. Suddenly, she fell in a spray of blood and an explosive sound. Thomas Wayne Sr. went down next.

While the individual pearls from Martha's necklace spattered over the ground, a familiar voice said, "Bruce? You should've listened to your brother." A third shot rang out and Bruce Wayne fell. Thomas jumped at the report while Alfred Pennyworth, holding a smoking pistol, stepped from the shadows. "It's done, Master Thomas."

Overhead a flock of birds had taken off for the darkened sky, leaving one confused bird perched overhead. "Whooo-whoo! Who are you?" it seemed to be calling to Thomas._ A bird spoke to me that night,_ he reflected later. _Bewildered and confused. Like Bruce as he lay there dying._

"Tom...Tommy?" Bruce whimpered, holding out his hand to his brother.

"Who am I?" Tommy said. "I'm Thomas Wayne, Junior. The richest boy in Gotham City." With Alfred at his back, he carefully aimed his pistol down at his traitorous brother and put the last bullet into him. The loud explosion finally drove the owl flapping into the sky. 

* * *

><p>"Penny for your thoughts, sir." A voice broke his reverie. He looked up with a smile.<p>

"Ah, Alfred, I'm sorry. I was remembering," Thomas said.

"Your family?" Alfred said.

"Alfred, sometimes I've had to burn it all and start again. We've been marooned on a world that isn't ours. Things are different here, but there are some things that might be better than what we left behind." He looked up at his oldest ally. "I'm building a new family here. That's what this backwards world is going to give me. A new beginning." _And don't you dare try to stop me._

The old man met his eyes and kept them there, before falling. "As you wish, sir." 

* * *

><p>Dick sat dozing in the chair. One of the syndicate members, Johnny Quick, had let him use the bathroom, stolidly watching him while he did his business. His stomach had started growling and he was beginning to regret the offer of food last night from that pod-person version of Alfred last night. This Alfred gave him the creeps, he was so familiar and yet so very different. Alfred. Was his Alfred even alive anymore? Was Bruce? Or Babs? Tim or Jason? Clark? Anyone? For all he knew, he was the last hero left alive. His head bowed and he closed his eyes, trying to absorb the probable truth of his situation.<p>

Bruce had always insisted that he consider every possibility and plan for the worst. Well, this was probably the worst. He could mourn later, after he had cleaned up this mess.

He was startled by a throat being cleared just off his left shoulder. His eyes flew open to find Alfred, their Alfred standing and holding a tray.

"Your breakfast, sir," he said and raised the lid. Dick's eyes opened even wider. There sat a large bowl of Crocky Crunch in whole milk with two tablespoons of sugar liberally scattered on the top. A cloth napkin was neatly folded with a spoon on top of it. A china cup and saucer held jasmine tea, lemon, no sugar. The old man caught Dick's surprise and smiled a bit. "This was Master Richard's standard breakfast. I trust that it meets with your approval?"

Dumbly, Dick nodded and watched as Alfred set the tray onto a small table and set it in front of him. "I will unlock your cuffs, sir. I assume that you will make no attempts at escape since you have allied yourself with Master Thomas." Alfred produced a key, but before he bent over to release the chains, he met Dick's eye. "If you should attempt any action against me by way of escape, be assured that I will certainly break your neck, thus leaving Master Thomas free of any potential serpent in his breast. Is that understood?"

Dick nodded and gritted out a "Yeah." He'd always known that his Alfred was a tough man, but he'd rarely shown that side to him. This Alfred...did not pretend to any affection or softness for Talon's twin.

He felt his hands released and carefully picked up the spoon, beginning to eat. He felt the butler's glittering eyes following his every move. "How much longer am I going to just sitting around?" Dick asked casually.

"As long as necessary," 'Alfred' said. "You should know that the only reason you are alive is because Thomas forced the issue with Ultraman. He is the only thing standing between you and death."

"I see," Dick said. "Nice tea. Just the way I like it, thank you." He dabbed at his lips with the napkin, just as his Alfred had taught him all those years ago. "I...uh...don't suppose you've heard about whether any other heroes have survived?"

"No," the butler said shortly. "You have no allies. You are entirely alone." Seeing that his charge had finished his tea and the cereal, 'Alfred' stepped behind Dick's chair. "Hands," he said, grabbing and pulling them back by the wrists when Dick moved too slowly. He chained them together, then scooted the table out of Dick's reach and retrieved the tray.

"I do have an ally," Dick said softly. "Thomas Wayne is my ally. Don't forget that, Alfred." 

* * *

><p>Relieved of his duties to Thomas and his new Talon, Alfred returned to Owlman's quarters. They had formerly been assigned to Batman, so Alfred had considered it a kind of poetic justice to claim it for a different scion of the Wayne family. The decoration was spartan but the suite was comfortable enough. He assumed that the other Pennyworth cooked for his own Wayne, since the tiny kitchenette was organized with a military efficiency of which Alfred approved. He quickly cleaned the breakfast dishes and sat down to his own meal. Thomas was out on his own errands.<p>

This world was a puzzlement. Weakness was held in esteem and the downtrodden were not as exploited as they had been on their own earth. Here, there was an expectation that the strongest would protect the weak, or at least the former Justice League had claimed that for their mission. Ridiculous. Still, Thomas' remarks that morning troubled Alfred. He could almost think that his master was getting soft. He certainly hadn't been the same since Talon died.

He'd told this world's Dick Grayson the ugly truth of Talon's ending, but not all of it. This lad was an unknown quantity; it wouldn't do to reveal too many potentially damaging secrets.

Alfred poured himself his own cup of tea. It was the only luxury he permitted himself. Helping Thomas run all the gangs in Gotham City had taken most of his time. Since Thomas and the rest had escaped to this Earth, there hadn't been much time for retrospection. The butler took a sip, remembering. 

"Can you hear me, Thomas?" Alfred had called over the radio to Owlman.

"Where's Talon?" Owlman responded.

"He isn't answering his comm-link. You should never have told him about his parents, sir. Or told him the truth about Barbara and the rest. You should've done what we always do. Lie!" Alfred knew that he sounded cross, but Thomas had completely ignored his wise advice.

"Just let me know when you find him," Owlman said. "Owlman out." Owlman began moving towards a cluster of police helicopters. Police radio reported that the Joker had been spotted. Owlman heard shots fired and swung from building to building at his top speed.

"We've lost visual on the Joker, sir," Alfred radioed him.

Owlman landed among a display of lit Christmas trees, decorating a small park in front of one of the buildings. This was the moment, the very moment that Owlman's world began to crumble...and in turn, Earth's.

"You could have told Richard another story about the death of his parents," Alfred said into the silence.

"He was going to find out, Alfred," Owlman said. "I thought it'd be better from me. Dick will understand. He'll..." Owlman's voice cut off.

Thomas found the body, what was left of it: six beautifully wrapped boxes in foil Christmas wrap with bows on them, for heaven's sake. The Joker had been perched up above, waiting gleefully for Owlman to find his 'gift'.

"Aren't you going to open them up?" the Joker giggled. "I wrapped them myself!"

Alfred heard the Joker's voice as well as Thomas' silence. "Thomas? What is it?"

"Talon." Thomas' voice was deeper than usual. Then he shouted, voice enraged. "I'm going to kill you for this, Joker!"

"Oh, I've heard that before!" Joker shouted back, sounding closer. I peered around the cover I'd taken. Thomas was hunched over the boxes, running a hand down the wrapping paper. Idiot!

Joker advanced on him from behind. "From your former partner in crime. Pick a card, Owlman. Any card."

Seeing that Thomas wasn't going to defend himself, Alfred raised his own shotgun and blasted Joker in the chest. " Always preferred chess, myself," Alfred said. "Those boxes? Is Talon...?"

"Yes," Thomas said, trying to gather the boxes into his arms.

"He went after the Joker because of what you said," The butler prompted. "Where **were** you?"

Thomas wouldn't look up, he just kept stacking the boxes, now dripping at the corners as he tied them together into a bundle.

"You were with her again, weren't you?" Thomas has been seeing a woman claimed by Ultraman. If Ultraman found out, everything would be over. And because Thomas wasn't...available...Talon had been out there alone, foolish boy.

"Dick got himself caught," Thomas said, barely audible. "This is _his_ fault."

"Like what happened to me is my fault, Mr. Wayne? I didn't drop myself into the toxic waters of Gotham Bay." The voice came from Joker, lying at Alfred's feet. Not yet dead. They heard a hissing sound and a greenish spray propelled from the clown's boutonniere. It coated Alfred's face and he began to cry out.

"Oh, quite screaming. You deserve worse for what you've helped him do, Pennyworth," the Joker grumbled, shambling to his feet.

"Alfred!" Thomas cried and grabbed his friend's shoulders. "Alfred?"

The Joker's poison began to take effect, bringing uncontrollable laughter. "Hn...Hn...Ha..." Alfred struggled to control himself. "Heh...heh...hee...ha! Ha! Ha!" The Joker laughed along, then he stopped laughing...Alfred didn't. He couldn't, ever again.

While the butler laughed helplessly, Owlman dealt with the Joker, dropping him off the side of a building. Owlman returned swiftly and gave his friend the anti-venin and waited with me him while it took effect.

"I still need your assistance. With Talon Gone, I don't trust anyone on this planet more than you," he said.

"Ha! Haaa...haaaa..heh...heh..Yu...You shouldn't trust anyone. Ha," Alfred choked out.

Owlman took him back to Arkham Manor and sat with him while he recovered. Or at least as much as he could ever recover. Two days later, Ultraman summoned Owlman to Ultrapolis. The planet was being attacked by something...something new. The heroes of the Crime Syndicate gathered to try to save their dominions.


	3. Johnny and Rhonda

CHAPTER 3

Dick watched as 'Alfred' left for the back of the building. Returning to quarters, he assumed. He sighed and tried to work his wrists out of the cuffs yet again. What had happened to the real Alfred? He hoped that his surrogate grandfather was still alive. It was a shame to call the Jokerized Alfred by his 'grandfather's' name. Pennyworth. Mr. Pennyworth. That would work. It was superficially polite, so neither Thomas nor the butler could object to that. He'd reserve the name 'Alfred' for the real man.

He heard footsteps nearby and saw a slender young woman in a leotard approaching him. Atomica. She was Johnny Quick's girlfriend and able to shrink down to molecular size and back again to her original human size. She normally rode around, about an inch tall, on Johnny's shoulder.

"Well, hello there," she drawled, blue eyes sparkling maliciously. "I don't think we've met yet. You're Richard, aren't you?"

Dick smiled back. Maybe he could gain traction with the oldest game in the world. "My friends call me Dick. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I'm all tied up at the moment." He flashed his baby blues at her and hoped the dimples would have their usual effect.

They did. She smiled and began twirling her long hair around one finger. "I'm Rhonda, Rhonda Pineda. Pleased to meet you. Too bad you have to be tied up like that. I hope Superwoman didn't hurt you too bad." She moistened a fingertip and rubbed some dried blood off Dick's cheek. "Want me to kiss it better?" she husked in a low voice.

"I'd never turn down a kiss from a pretty lady," Dick replied, voice equally seductive. "But I could kiss you better with my hands free."

Her smile brightened as she leaned in. "Now, why would I want to do that? I just looooove my men restrained," she murmured and touched her lips to Dick's, then brought her sharp little teeth down hard on his lower lip. Dick recoiled and she let go, laughing at the blood spilling down his chin.

"Rhonda, just what are you doin'?" a male voice came from the other end of the room. Johnny Quick strode over to find Atomica giggling and dangerously close to the new prisoner. Quick's eyes passed from his girlfriend to the new interloper, grinning wickedly. He pushed the girl away from Nightwing and stood tall, cracking his knuckles.

"What are you tryin' to do with my girl?" he said. "You stay away from her, hear me?" He swung and connected with Nightwing's chin. Fortunately, Dick had seen it coming and rolled with the blow, hauling himself upright and spitting blood from his mouth.

"I didn't start anything, Johnny, is it? She came over to me," Dick said. "Why don't you ask your girl?"

"I ain't askin' my girl. I'm askin' you!" Johnny said and grinned even more broadly. "I've heard about you, _Dick_! You think you got more rights than the rest of us just because you were raised by that billionaire? Well, me and mine, we take what we want and we're just as good as you are." He sneered and bent near Dick's face with the final words, almost nose to nose. "You better mind your P's and Q's or you'll be in a world of hurt, boy!"

Dick had heard about Johnny Allan and Rhonda Pineda, or Johnny and Rhonnie as they'd called themselves. During his captivity in this blasted chair, he'd listened to the Crime Syndicate gossiping among themselves. A modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, they'd robbed banks and murdered their way through multiple cities before an accident at the Earth-3 S.T.A.R. Labs gave them powers.

He'd been dealing with idiot smalltime crooks since he was nine years old, and the old wise-ass Robin flared. "Yeah, well, I've heard that before," Dick returned sneer for sneer. "I'm used to dealing with brain-donors like you."

A lightening quick blow hit his chest and Johnny was back in his place, grinning. "Y'all gonna stay away from my girl, now, Nightwing. Hey Rhonda! Watch this!" He zipped around Dick's chair, raining blows on him from all sides. Johnny soon became a blur surrounding him, the punches and kicks fast and furious, punctuated by Rhonda's giggling at the sport. Johnny was just too fast. Dick rolled with the blows he could see, and endured the ones he couldn't. The chair fell over, with Dick still cuffed to it. He struggled to fight, flip himself over the back of the chair and use it as a weapon, but ended up cowering behind it to protect his most precious body parts. There was nothing for it but to try to survive this idiot. He dimly heard shouting through the red mist before it all went away entirely. 

* * *

><p>Owlman, followed by Ultraman heard the sounds of fighting and strode into the control room. Grid watched impassively and Rhonda was giggling while Johnny systematically worked at beating their prisoner, the erstwhile Nightwing, to death.<p>

Enraged, Owlman ran forward and tackled Johnny Quick, taking him down to the floor. "How dare you!" Owlman shouted, pounding a cringing Johnny with both fists. "Nightwing wasn't to be touched! Those were my orders!"

Cringing away from Owlman's punishment, Johnny whined, "But he's no good to anybody, anymore. He oughta be disposed of. And why do we hafta watch him? Me and Rhonda got better things to do!"

Ultraman watched with a look of amusement in his red eyes. "He has a point, Thomas," he said with a smirk.

Thomas dropped Johnny with a thump and went over to where Dick lay, still attached to the chair. He felt for a pulse and, finding one, relaxed minutely. He found a key in his belt and unlocked the cuffs, then squatted down next to the boy. Silently, he picked him up in his arms and turned to face Ultraman, face thunderous. "You idiot! You absolute consummate fool!" Owlman said in a low, grating voice. "You have no idea just how valuable this boy is!"

Ultraman, arms folded over his huge chest, glared right back. "He's worthless to our cause, Thomas. You just want him because he reminds you of Talon. Your sentiment has always been your weakness and I won't have it endangering our plans here."

"He knows this world," Thomas said between clenched teeth. "He knows who the major players are, the heroes and the criminals. Do you think that we've cleared all opposition by neutralizing the Justice League? There are dozens of heroes who aren't actively affiliated with the League and this boy knows them all! He might even," Thomas moved closer to Ultraman. "know sources of kryptonite on this planet or which scientists might be able to synthesize it!"

"It scarcely matters," Ultraman shouted. "He's our enemy and he hasn't given us any intel so far. Superwoman worked him over thoroughly and he hasn't said anything. He's worthless. A waste of our effort. "

"Not if he agrees to ally with us," Owlman shouted back. "And I have his agreement. If he sees us as his only friends, we'll have access to that information and his cooperation." He looked bleakly at the toppled chair and the bloodstains that surrounded it. "But it's clear that he's not safe here. I won't gain his trust if I leave him out here to be preyed on by the petty criminals you've gathered to our cause." He turned to leave.

"And just what are you planning?" Ultraman grabbed his upper arm, hard.

"I'm taking him to Gotham, "Thomas said. "It's his home and mine as well, since Batman is gone. He can introduce me to the leading gang leaders and help with the transition to my rule. Doubtless he knows the systems Bruce Wayne set up to run the city."

"While you try to turn him into the Talon you lost. Well, I have news for you, Thomas. Talon is dead and he's not coming back," Ultraman spat. "But I agree that it's a good idea to put some distance between us for a while."

Thomas didn't answer, but strode from the room. 

* * *

><p>Dick woke slowly, feeling a soft mattress beneath him. Hmmmm, been a while since he'd lain on such a great mattress, almost like he'd had a the manor. He opened his eyes to see familiar surroundings. This was Batman's room at the JLA headquarters and he was in Bruce's bed . He'd been chained to a chair and now...Memory returned. Johnny Quick. He tried to sit up and a dozen aches told him that it was a bad idea. He lifted his right hand and ran it through his hair, noticing the marks that the cuffs had left behind. Not a dream, then. He felt like hell. He lay back, taking inventory. At least one cracked rib, more bruises on his chest, lost a tooth, couldn't breathe through his nose; broken?<p>

"You don't want to touch the splint unless you want your nose to heal crooked," Thomas Wayne, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, came into the room. He looked younger in street clothes, his dark hair running to curls, also looking more relaxed than Bruce ever had. Thomas took a seat in a chair beside the bed and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "I'm sorry about Johnny. He disobeyed orders to leave you alone," Thomas said with a frown, looking even more like Bruce. "He won't bother you anymore. We're leaving here."

"Where are we going?" Dick asked.

"I thought Gotham," Thomas said, eyes on the floor. "With Bruce...gone...Gotham needs a strong hand if it's anything like my own Gotham. I'm hoping that you can help me with that."

Alarm pulsed through Dick's mind. Bruce might be gone, but the identity of Batman wasn't known yet. He hoped. Trying to be casual, he said, "Do you plan to let it be known that Thomas Wayne is Owlman?"

Thomas looked up and smiled. "My reasons for secrecy are, I imagine, very similar to Bruce's. I need a place of safety and privacy during my off-duty hours, so no, I'll just be one of Bruce's relatives taking up residence after Bruce's death."

Pain stabbed deep inside. "Is he?" Dick asked, voice gone suddenly ragged.

"Dead?" Thomas replied, then paused for a long moment. "As far as you're concerned, you should consider him dead and gone." 

* * *

><p>Miles away, a grubby form dressed in shredded black body armor fought his way up the final mine shaft. Panting, he kicked out the boards that had closed the entrance of the abandoned mine. It was dawn of a bright summer day. Trees and rusted equipment filled the area near the entrance. Clearly nobody had been here in years. He bent down and picked up a piece of old newspaper, stuffed inside the body of a rusted out car. The Sacramento Bee, dated 1976, lay under his hand. He was on Earth, then. Hopefully it was his earth. He'd been able to get out of the pocket dimension before the doorway had closed on the League, leaving them behind.<p>

He found the road and began to follow it, blending into the shadows whenever a car came. At last, he came into a small town and, fortuitously, there was an unattended ATM outside a bank. He pulled a debit card from a pouch and fed it into the machine. He always carried a card for a well-stocked dummy account set up for Matches Malone years ago. The card worked, giving him the maximum allowable amount. It wasn't much but it would buy clothing. Ducking into cover, he removed his cape, cowl and belt, turning his shirt inside out. With the tights, he could arguably be an elite runner in a speed suit.

He found the local 24 hour megastore, all but empty because of the early hour. He quickly bought clothing and dressed, then reentered the store, going to the media department. Each television blared the same pictures. His jaw tightened when he saw what was shown on every channel. The Crime Syndicate claimed to own the planet. At the next image, his eyes narrowed with his brows drawn and his fists clenched. Dick...


	4. Two Butlers

Author's note: I'm noticing that many of you are favoriting this story. For that, thank you! But...um...I do really love reviews and feedback too. I'd love to hear from you. I write FASTER for feedback. And I take requests, too ;)

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 4<p>

Dick refused any pain medication if it was administered by Pennyworth and so he had an uncomfortable flight to Gotham City in Owlman's small jet. During the travel, he feigned sleep and turned Thomas' words over and over in his mind. Thomas had told him to 'consider' Bruce dead and gone. Maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe he was somewhere he could be rescued from. He couldn't shake the hope that somehow, someway Batman and the League were alive somewhere. They'd all beaten death before, so maybe, maybe...

He had to keep hope in his heart while pretending to ally himself with Bruce's evil twin. Thomas might have been a brother on his own Earth, but his resemblance to Bruce was more than unnerving. Batman had trained his protégés, and Dick especially, to unquestioning obedience from an early age. Living with the man had inspired love and admiration as well. Dick was simply used to deferring to Bruce's judgment and orders and wanted, above all, to make him proud. Now he was faced with a man who looked, sounded and probably even smelled like Bruce Wayne. He wondered whether Thomas could read him as well as Bruce could. Dick's best poker face was no match for Bruce's sharp blue-eyed gaze. Could he fool Thomas well enough to stay alive?

He'd been undercover before, at risk of his life. Sure, he'd been playing roles since he was ten and dressed as a girl to play bait for child predators. This was different. This man wanted, no expected, Dick to replace the brother/son he'd lost. Man, how did he get into situations like this? He wished Roy and Wally were here to commiserate with. These things only happened to Bats, they'd tell him...

Interesting thought. Wally was stuck with the League, but Roy..? Dick made a mental note just as the jet came in to land on the private airstrip Bruce had installed on Manor grounds.

"Sir? Are you awake?" Pennyworth tapped his shoulder. "We have arrived."

Dick pried his eyes open. "We're here?" he said. "Okay, just give me a moment, Pennyworth..." He painfully hauled himself out of the seat. Like Bru...Thomas, he was dressed in jeans, a tee shirt and sneakers. Thomas had gone shopping for him, using Talon's sizes. All the clothing fit. Go figure. Waving away Pennyworth's proffered assistance, he gimped his way down the ladder to the pavement.

"In my manor, there was a cobblestone pathway to the back door of the house," Thomas commented. "It should start about there." He pointed.

"Yeah," Dick said. "Ours is gravel, but goes the same place." He followed Thomas, noting that the other man was purposely slowing his gait so that Dick could keep up. Sympathy. This murderous criminal was treating him with sympathy, damn him. Not-Bruce. He's not Bruce. Not-Bruce.

The arrived at the back door and Dick tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. He led the way through the kitchen and into the foyer, Thomas and Pennyworth trailing behind. Dick came to a sudden stop under the great chandelier that lit the entryway. He gulped.

Alfred Pennyworth, the original, stood there stiffly with shotgun aimed at the intruders.

"Master Richard," Alfred said. "Who are your guests?" The butler looked at them more closely. "I believe I recognize Owlman from the television but..." Alfred blinked, closed his eyes hard, then opened them again.

Pennyworth simply smiled and removed his hat. "Alfred Pennyworth, I presume," Pennyworth said. "My counterpart on this earth. If he is anything like me, he is also quite a good shot and the gun is loaded."

Dick smiled with a confidence he didn't feel. "Alfred Pennyworth, meet Pennyworth. And this," he gestured. "Is Owlman, as you guessed. They'll be...staying...at the manor a while."

While the butlers eyed each other warily, Owlman removed his cowl. "I think that your Alfred, of all people, can be trusted with the secret. I am Thomas Wayne, eldest son of Dr. Thomas and Mrs. Martha Wayne on my Earth." He stretched out a hand and gave Alfred a beaming smile of the sort that Bruce generally used for press conferences.

Alfred cast a glance at Dick, who nodded, before setting down his shotgun and shaking Wayne's hand. "I am pleased to meet you, sir. You do have a strong look of Dr. Wayne about you," Alfred said, eyes returning to Pennyworth. "You, Mr. Pennyworth, seem to be my twin and yet, not."

"A slight run-in with the Joker, alas," Pennyworth said gravely. "It has left its mark."

"Indeed?" Alfred replied. "You must tell me about it. In the meantime, I trust that you, Master Dick, have no objection to old room? Good. And you, sir, I have a number of fine guestrooms avail..."

"No, I will be staying in the master suite," Owlman said. "Batman is gone and will not be returning. I will assume Bruce Wayne's territory and will manage it with Dick's assistance."

Alfred's eyebrows raised and he took a quick breath. "I see, sir. I have not cleared the suite of Master Bruce's belongings. Do you wish to delay your occupancy until I can do that?"

But Thomas Wayne was already halfway up the grand staircase. "I know my way, Alfred. The suite is fine as it is. I am curious about Bruce. Seeing his belongings will be interesting."

Alfred and Dick traded glances and Alfred noticed Pennyworth at his elbow. Having no choice, he turned to his alternate. "And you, Mr. Pennyworth, do you have any preferences?"

Pennyworth gave him a pale stare. "I won't put you out. As I recall, there are other quarters downstairs next to the butler's rooms, at Arkham Manor, in any case. If the layout is the same at Wayne Manor, those should be quite comfortable."

"They are the same," Alfred said. "I'll take you to them."

"I'll go on up to my own room," Dick said. "And Alfie, would you bring me some fresh towels? I want to take a shower."

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. "This way, Mr. Pennyworth," he said, heading towards the back stairs. 

* * *

><p>The suite next to Alfred had once belonged to the housekeeper who had worked with his father. It was a small apartment, a mirror image version of Alfred's own, with small living room, kitchenette, bedroom and bath. The two shared a small terrace surrounded by some of Mrs. Wayne's treasured roses.<p>

"Very nice," Pennyworth commented. "It will do." He glanced at his counterpart. "It seems that young Master Richard has decided on names for us both. Pennyworth for me and Alfred for you. How like our own Talon to assign nicknames."

Alfred frowned. "You have your own Dick Grayson?"

"Had," Pennyworth said. "It behooves you to keep a better watch on your own than Master Thomas did on ours."

"I see. What do you recommend, then?" Alfred asked carefully.

"Talon was always a hothead, ruled more by his heart than his head. I imagine that yours is similar. As long as he remains loyal to Thomas' interests, he will be protected, as will you."

"And what of Master Bruce? Our own Batman?" Alfred said.

"Him? He is dead, along with the rest of the Justice League," Pennyworth said."

"You saw him die?" Alfred's voice was steady but quiet.

"What does it matter? He isn't coming back from where we left him," Pennyworth said and checked his watch. "We should begin dinner. I know that Master Thomas likes to dine early."

"That has been our schedule as well," Alfred said. "Come, then. I'll show you what supplies we have on hand. Since the invas...arrival...of the Crime Syndicate, the deliveries have become erratic."

Pennyworth sniffed and followed Alfred up the stairs. "That, then, will be our first order of business once we make Master Thomas' presence known to the neighborhood."

Leaving Pennyworth to finish grilling the steaks and preparing the salad nicoise, Alfred took a stack of towels upstairs to Master Dick's room. He had no doubt that the boy would have much to say. 

* * *

><p>At his tap, Dick opened the door carefully, then let him in. While Alfred watched, Dick limped to a chair and sat down while Alfred locked the door behind him. He was careful to set the anti-bugging alarms, although he had his doubts about their effectiveness against Owlman. As a precaution, he started the shower in the attached bathroom and left the door open and turned the radio on.<p>

Turning back to the lad, what he saw made him purse his lips. What had they done to his and Bruce's boy? Dick, at rest now, was slumped forward, elbows on knees.

"Let me see," Alfred said in Dick's ear. "You look worse than you did on the television."

Dick gave him a half-grin. "I've had worse."

"Hmmm," Alfred said, checking him over. "Well, nothing life-threatening. Would you like some Naprosyn?"

"I'd nod my head if it didn't hurt," Dick admitted. "I was afraid to take anything that zombie butler offered."

Alfred fetched the drug from Dick's medicine cabinet and a glass of water. "Having met him, I can certainly understand that. What are Owlman's intentions?"

Dick swallowed the pill and gulped the water down. "As near as I can tell, he wants to take Bruce's place and, as he put it, run Gotham. I think he plans for Owlman to become the local crime lord here." He held the cold glass to his forehead and looked up at Alfred. "Oh, and he wants me for his Talon. It seems I remind him a lot of his own Dick Grayson."

"Oh dear," Alfred said and sank down onto the bed. "And what of Master Bruce? Do you know anything about him?"

Dick's head sank again. "Nothing definite. The entire Crime Syndicate honestly believes that the Justice League is no longer a threat to them. I've been told that Batman is either "dead" or so far gone that he might as well be." He glanced over at one of the men who'd raised him. "I agreed to ally myself to Owlman, to take down Ultraman and the rest of the Syndicate. I hope I haven't betrayed Bruce by doing so."

Alfred watched the guilt play in the depths of Dick's bright blue eyes and knew how corrosive it could be. "I think that Master Bruce would understand and applaud your move. He would not want you to throw your life away in an unconsidered and pointless battle against overwhelming odds." He stood up and moved briskly towards the door. "You have your shower. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes in the formal dining room." He turned back and noted that the boy still had not moved. "Are you all right?"

Dick stood up carefully. "No, I'm not all right. Not that it makes any difference. And Alfred, we have to keep him away from the Cave if we can."

"If we can," Alfred said. "In any case, when word came about the Crime Syndicate, I began moving the more important materials into storage in the deeper cave systems. The Crays have been wiped and the backups hidden. All that remains now are some fast cars, a jet or two, batsuits and some trophies. Oh," Alfred smiled impishly. "And the crime lab."

Dick grinned back. "I'm sure they'll find a good use for that." 

* * *

><p>Two thousand miles away at the LaughlinBullhead Nevada International Airport, a tall man in a loud shirt and battered chinos got onto a jet bound for Gotham City, with three intermediate stops. His luggage consisted of a single duffel bag. He took his place in economy class and stretched his long legs into the aisle, tucking his sunglasses into a shirt pocket. The jet took off smoothly and he was off.

The lady in the seat next to him settled. "Flying is so frightening, isn't it?" she said to the man in the seat next to her.

He put down the in-flight magazine he was studying. "I don't know," he said in a nasal, New Jersey accent. "I don't fly much and there's other things that scare me more. Them taken away my cigarettes, for one," he said, fumbling a match stick out of a pocket and placing it between his lips.

She smiled. "I can understand that. But this flight ends in San Francisco. That's not so long."

"Yeah," he said. "It ain't. His eye flashed to the screens on the seatbacks that was broadcasting the news. "And them Crime Syndicate people. They scare the crap outta me, too. I'm surprised the planes are still flyin'."

"Oh, didn't you hear Ultraman's announcement about that the first day? He wants to keep businesses running and people to get on with their lives. He says that he's going to start levying taxes soon," she said with a frown. "I hope they're lower than what we've been paying."

"Amen ta that," the man said and held out a hand. "My name's Malone but my friends call me 'Matches'". He leaned back in his seat. "So, whaddaya hear about this Richard Grayson-Nightwing person they caught?"


	5. Paying the Piper

CHAPTER 5

The formal dining room, as Alfred was fond of saying, seated 35 and slept 20. The family rarely used it except for large parties and banquets. The small dining area or the kitchen was enough for day to day use. Dick shivered, his hair still damp from the thorough scrubbing he'd given himself. This room was drafty, too and although he and Thomas sat near the blazing fireplace, he couldn't shake a chill at his core..

Thomas had clearly found Bruce's closet and donned a shirt and slacks that Bruce sometimes wore. Sapphire blue silk shirt and black slacks with matching loafers. As he'd suspected, the two were of a size. He, himself wore an old pair of comfy jeans with a Gotham Knights sweat shirt. Let Thomas make of that what he wanted, he wasn't going to go formal even for this blasted dining room.

Both butlers brought in the first course, Pennyworth serving Thomas and Alfred serving Dick. Alfred gave him a brief smile and said in his ear, "I tested for poisons or other chemicals. The food is fine." Dick nodded and saw Pennyworth murmuring to his own master, probably a similar assurance.

Dick smiled back in gratitude. "Who cooked?" he asked in a normal tone.

"The steaks and salad nicoise are Pennyworth's, I prepared the side dishes and dessert," Alfred said. "I'm glad to know that Pennyworth's cooking skills are similar to my own, although I believe we should exchange recipes. He may have come up with some improvements." _That's right, Alfie_, Dick silently encouraged him. _Keep buttering the guy up._

"Now that we are settled back in Gotham," Thomas said, while Dick tasted the steak. It was very rare, barely kissed by the flame. "We should begin to discuss our plans."

At the far end of the dining room, Dick saw Pennyworth gesture to Alfred and the two slipped through the door to the butler's pantry. "Our plans?" Dick said through a mouthful of steak. "You mean, our plans to take down the Crime Syndicate and Ultraman?"

"Eventually, yes," Thomas said, watching Dick closely. _Like an owl sizing up a small bird_, Dick reflected, then quickly banished the thought. _Focus, Grayson!_

"Then, what do you plan to do first?" Dick took a sip of his wine. It glowed red as blood in the firelight. "Why wait to take down Ultraman and his cronies? The Earth can't take much more of their rule."

"First, I must consolidate my power base. We fled my own Gotham, bringing only ourselves and basic weaponry. I must rebuild in this Gotham. Once I have control over the gangs of the city, I'll have an army." Thomas smiled and tossed back the rest of his wine. "And of course, you will be my second in command. Didn't Batman have control of the criminals in his territory? We can simply move in and take over."

"Uh, I don't know how much you know about Batman, but we basically caught the criminals and they were put in prison. We tried to break up the gangs," Dick said hesitantly.

"Oh, why that is very inefficient," Thomas took another sip of his wine and refilled Dick's glass. "I'd heard a rumor to that effect, but it sounded so silly that I discounted it. How do you gather power that way? Where did the Wayne fortune come from? Surely Bruce used his businesses as money-laundering operations?"

"No, Bruce's businesses are all legitimate," Dick said, feeling vaguely nauseated. "We used our time and resources to fight crime, not prop it up."

"Really? But if you want to truly fight crime, all you need to do is kill some criminals, make an example or two, and the crime rate drops immediately. Surely, you've killed by this time?"

Dick eyed his bloody steak and gently pushed his plate away. "Batman doesn't believe in killing." He swallowed hard, remembering Bludhaven and Blockbuster. "I agree with his code."

"Batman didn't believe in killing. Bruce Wayne is dead," Thomas said. "A new time has arrived on this earth, and while I do plan to eliminate Ultraman and seize control over the Crime Syndicate, I don't intend to limit my methods." He leveled his gaze at Dick. "I hope that you don't plan to make that difficult for me."

"Why do you want me as your ally? I know how you feel about the Dick Grayson who died, but I'm not him," Dick said, and while he was saying it, he mentally kicked himself for being this honest. _I've got to stand my ground now, before he makes me do something irredeemable, that changes me so much I can never go back to who I was._ "I don't kill. Ever. And I don't believe that Bruce is really dead. Not until I see a body."

"I see. Well, he is certainly gone permanently and probably dead by now. We trapped the Justice League on the other side of a cross-dimensional gate and closed it behind us. The world they were left in is inhospitable to life and Bruce Wayne is human. He has no powers that would allow him to survive," Thomas's voice gentled. "I didn't want to tell you this so baldly, but it's the truth."

"He has been written off before and come back," Dick said. _Hang on, Grayson. Just hang on. There's no proof he's dead._

"Very well, cards fully on the table," Thomas said. "I want a family again. Talon and I were close. I took him in as a teenager and I miss him. He was my brother and, with Alfred, the only family I had left. I hope that you and I can develop the same kind of partnership." His blue eyes sought Dick's. "But more is needed. I will present the authorities with a body that Alfred," he paused, smiling. "Pennyworth, as you call him, has acquired, destroyed almost beyond recognition but containing the DNA of Bruce Wayne. Bruce will be dead, officially." He leaned forward. "You are Bruce Wayne's heir. You inherit the entirety of his holdings."

Dick started and Thomas smiled. "You didn't know that, did you? Grid has confirmed it. As the new Wayne of Gotham, you are in a position to support my activities financially."

With a frown, Dick replied, "You can't force me to do anything."

Thomas dabbed at his lips with his napkin. "I won't force you. I respect your beliefs, but this is a war we'll be fighting. If you really want the Syndicate brought down, you may have to make some compromises.. And I've already set up some meetings for us."

"Meetings?" Dick replied, stomach sinking.

"Owlman is meeting an Oswald Cobblepot at the Iceberg Lounge. He seems to have taken over the local gang activity. At the very least, he seems to be connected with all the players. I think his underworld nickname is 'Penguin'." Thomas glanced at his sullen-faced partner. "You can't go as Richard Grayson or as Nightwing. Perhaps you could go as Talon?" he suggested hopefully.

Dick kept his face a blank. "Are you sure you want to replace Talon so soon? You're still mourning him."

"It is rather soon, but I already think of you that way. Of course, there is an alternative," Thomas said. "Since Bruce Wayne is dead, your codename could be 'Batman'..." 

* * *

><p>SAN FRANCISCO<p>

A worried Matches Malone debarked into the crowded terminal. The string of flights that Malone had booked should have kept any followers busy while he quietly chartered a jet and flew directly to Happy Harbor to rescue Dick. The Crime Syndicate had brought down the JLA Watchtower and landed it there, to be their new headquarters.

Now that he'd seen the full footage that the Syndicate was circulating, he realized that he needed an even lower profile. A two-bit criminal chartering a jet might send Grid's attention his way. He hadn't liked the way Dick looked in the footage, alive but...defeated somehow. He had to get to him as fast as possible. He had allies who were closer, yes, but didn't dare contact them. The Syndicate controlled communications to a level that he'd never seen before. But he was in San Francisco, home to the Titans...

Malone made his decision. Shouldering his backpack he walked over to the cab stand, patiently waiting his turn. When the cab door closed, he murmured, "Titans' Tower."


	6. Divided Loyalty

Author's Note: Just a reminder that those who leave reviews go to Heaven!

CHAPTER 6

Dick sat quietly in the ruins of dinner while the butlers brought in dessert while he fought his first instinct to throttle Thomas for daring to suggest that Batman be used as Owlman's flunky. To debase Batman and all he stood for... Only the need to keep Batman's legacy alive somehow had driven him from his grief over Bruce's passing to assume the cowl. If Batman was really gone, it was up to Dick to preserve the birthright Bruce had left him.

"I think I'd rather be 'Talon'," Dick said. "It's more fitting that Owlman's partner be called that. Batman is a symbol of the past." Meeting Thomas' gaze, he was glad to see he'd struck the right note. He decided to push a little. "I'd also suggest you not declare Bruce dead just yet," he said and gave Thomas what he hoped was a boyish smile. "Both Batman and Bruce Wayne being declared dead at the same time could lead our enemies directly to Wayne Manor, especially when you factor in my recent unmasking. I think it would be an unnecessary risk to our plans." _And it will also keep Bruce's identity safe until he can come back to claim it._

"You have a point," Thomas said thoughtfully. "All right, we won't take any action with regard to Bruce Wayne. Who holds the power of attorney in Bruce's absence?"

"Lucius Fox generally runs things, but I have power of attorney," Dick admitted grudgingly. "Usually I just do what Lucius suggests."

"You'll have to introduce me to him. I'll have some ideas of my own," Thomas said. "I take it that Bruce's family background is well known?" At Dick's nod, he went on. "I can't be his brother, then. I'll be a cousin who has lived abroad for many years and has only just returned to the United States. Yes, that will work," Thomas said with a satisfied smile. "Now, shall we enjoy this baked Alaska that our Alfreds have prepared?"

Dick turned to his dessert while Alfred dimmed the lights and Pennyworth lit the liquor poured onto each dessert. The flames highlighted the planes of Thomas' face, quietly triumphant in his Louis quinze chair. _For Bruce a standard dessert is a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I think our Thomas has a taste for luxury. Good thing I've never been addicted to the things that money can buy; thanks Bruce._

* * *

><p>SAN FRANCISCO<p>

Matches Malone stepped out of the cab and looked at the wreckage of what had once been a beautiful building. It was still smoldering, wisps of black smoke curling out of the ruins of the tower scattered over an acre of manicured garden.

"What happened?" he murmured.

The cabbie, neck craned out of his cab window, replied. "They came two days ago. Ultraman and Superwoman, they call 'em. They pounded the building down and set fire to the rest. At least, that's the word on the street. They're hunting down anybody who ever knew that Richard Grayson fella, the one who was Nightwing? You ever gave that guy the time of day, Ultraman wants to punch your ticket permanently."

Matches swallowed hard, remembering the brave young people who had lived in the tower and, most of all, their leader. "Did any of them survive? What happened to the Titans?" _Tim, what happened to you?_

"The building was empty when they got here. I think the Titans went underground. Anyway, they didn't find any bodies afterward," the cabbie said. "So, you want to go back to the City or are you gonna stay here?"

"I think I'll stay here for a while," Matches said. "I'll call when I need a ride back."

"Suit yourself," the cabbie said. "But don't go around telling anybody you're a friend of the Titans or Nightwing. It could get you killed." The cabbie pulled the car away and sped down the road at high speed.

Matches picked his way through the rubble. _Tim isn't here. He wasn't here when the building went. The Titans were warned, they must have been or they'd have defended their headquarters. I have to check, make sure that Tim wasn't killed here._ Not for the first time he was frustrated by the communications lock down, but if the Syndicate was hunting Dick's associates, he might endanger Tim and the Titans by trying to call them.

Another thought occurred to him, though. He dialed a number on his burner cell phone. It was answered by a familiar voice. "Jim Gordon."

"Jim," he said, careful not to say his name. "I was wondering if you had a moment?"

"Hey there!" Gordon, bless him, was equally cautious. "Where the Hell have you been? The whole damned world has gone nuts. Have you heard about your eldest?"

"Yes, I know about what happened. How is your daughter?" He forced a laugh. "You know she spent half her childhood with my family."

"Oh, she's all right. She's on vacation out near the old clubhouse. She said she plans on doing some bird-watching." Gordon said. _Good. One family member was safe. And at the old clubhouse? Happy Harbor, the original location for the Justice League. Bird Watching? She's surveilling, watching Owlman._

"How about the younger boys?" Bruce asked. "What are they up to?"

"I saw them a couple of days ago when they hit town, but I don't think they're in any difficulty right now," Gordon replied. "Nobody has been asking me about them, if that helps." _Thank God, the boys are in the wind, too. Tim didn't die here._

"All right, then. Say hello to your daughter for me when she comes back from her vacation," Bruce said. "I think I'd like to do some bird watching myself. It sounds relaxing."

"That sounds like a good idea. Let me know how that goes, will you? I'd like to hear how it goes," Gordon said, his voice sounding lighter.

"I'll be sure to keep in touch," Bruce said and hung up. He returned to the road and fished a small remote out of his duffel, then clicked a tiny button. Off to the side, well away from the ruined Titans Tower, huge doors embedded in the ground pulled open. From the underground hangar, a small VTOL jet rose to the surface. Bruce removed the battery from the now-useless phone and tossed the cell into the bushes. He strode to the jet, entering the cockpit, then fired up the engines and took off into the sky. The Titans, since Dick's day as leader, had never stored their files with the JLA and so the Syndicate had no record of the underground bunkers at the Tower. Bruce grimaced, worry raising its head again at the thought of Dick. He was just grateful that Batgirl was at Happy Harbor trying to find Dick.

He pointed the jet East, towards Rhode Island, where the ruins of the JLA Watchtower sat and where Dick was being held.

* * *

><p>WAYNE MANOR-GOTHAM CITY<p>

"Now, about the cave," Thomas said crisply while the butlers cleared the table and served coffee. "You should give me a tour of the facilities down there."

"Cave?" Dick said casually. "What cave is that?"

Thomas frowned, then his face cleared. "Bruce trained you well not to give out secrets. The cave system underneath this house! We used it as our headquarters back home and Batman is known to do the same. At least, that's what Grid said, based on the JLA records. Is the entrance still from the old clock in the study?"

"The JLA records say that?" Dick asked. "I'm surprised they had that much information. Batman would never have volunteered that."

"There were some secret files kept by the Green Lanterns as a precaution against Batman, ah, 'going rogue' was the phrase they used. So, how about it?" Thomas stood up. "Let's look at this cave. We need to put together a Talon uniform for you if you're going to attend my meeting with Mr. Cobblepot tomorrow. I like to have an ally at my back when dealing with unknowns."

A silent Dick Grayson showed Thomas the cave entrance and led him down the stairs into the batcave below the house. Dick saw signs that Alfred had indeed been clearing the area. The trophy cases remained, but several of the mainframes were dark. The various jets, boats and other flying machines had disappeared and Dick didn't want to know where they had gone to. The less he knew, the less he could tell. He already knew that the Syndicate members were capable of torturing to get information.

"It looks as majestic as our own headquarters," Thomas said, looking around. "We'll have to remove the bat insignia and replace them with our own. But over all, I'm very pleased with Bruce's work here. Ah, Pennyworth," Thomas said. Pennyworth had arrived at Thomas' elbow in dead silence, unheard even by Dick himself.

"I see the various costumes and Dick has shown me the vault. Can you cobble together an appropriate Talon costume for Dick?"

"I believe so, sir. There are a number of...Ha...Nightwing outfits that can be retailored appropriately. There are various eyepieces which can be repurposed to make a mask. I am confident that Dick will be able to attend the meeting in full regalia," Pennyworth said.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it," Thomas said, still examining the contents of the cave. He stopped in front of one clear glass case, containing a brightly colored red and green outfit with a yellow cape. "And whose was this? Yours, I imagine?"

"Uh...yes, that was my costume when I was Robin," Dick said.

"It looks tattered and are those blood stains on it?" Thomas looked closely, then turned to Dick with concern on his face. "Batman didn't watch over your safety very well."

"No. He...I mean...I did all right," Dick stuttered. Thomas couldn't be allowed to know about Tim or Jason. He only hoped that Alfred was clearing their rooms of before Owlman or, God forbid, Pennyworth found out about their existence. "Batman trusted me to take care of myself in the field and injuries happen." Dick tried to look attentive and competent.

"I can see that," Thomas said. "Well, I think that we can relegate this piece of your past to a storage room somewhere. You are no longer a Bat, but an Owl."

* * *

><p>WAYNE MANOR<p>

MIDNIGHT

Dick couldn't sleep. Thomas had seen the cave and seemed to be content with what he had seen. The considerable firepower that Alfred had hidden mustn't fall into Owlman's hands and Dick commended Alfred's foresight. He still didn't know what he would do tomorrow at the meeting with Penguin and his goons. He'd have to keep playing it by ear, he supposed.

He heard a light tapping on his bedroom door and let Alfred in. "Alfred," Dick whispered. "Where have you been?"

"While you were downstairs in the cave, I did a bit of house cleaning upstairs," Alfred said. "The other bedrooms on this floor were untidy and I dislike guests seeing poor housekeeping."

"I see," Dick said. He turned the radio on and murmured into Alfred's ear, "You cleared out Tim's and Jason's rooms?"

"I did. And Master Damian's as well, God rest his soul," Alfred said solemnly. "So far as Thomas Wayne will ever know, you are the only living son of Bruce Wayne."

Dick nodded. "They know about what happened to me?"

"I presume so," Alfred said. "I haven't seen either of them since your capture. If I do, I will find a way to warn them off."

"Good. Thanks, Alfred," Dick said and ran a hand through his hair. "I've done undercover work, and pretended to be Bruce's enemy, but I was mad at him at the time. I've never had to pretend to...to..."

"To be a traitor?" Alfred asked gently. "That it is so difficult for you only demonstrates your sterling qualities. But now, my lad, for your own survival you must focus on your acting skills and make them believe the lie."

"I know, Alfred," Dick sighed. "I'm just afraid of what I might have to do to prove that to them."

In Bruce Wayne's bedroom, Thomas sat in an easy chair by the fire. His own Alfred tapped on the door and entered with a small tray of tea. "Ah, Alfred," Thomas said. "Thank you."

"I know that you enjoy a cup of tea before bed, sir," Pennyworth said, beginning to lay the tea things on Thomas' side table.

Thomas watched him in silence, noting how slow and deliberate his butler's movements had become. "All right, Alfred. Out with it," Thomas said. "What do you want to say?"

"Sir, now that you mention it, I did have a concern to bring to your attention," the pallid butler said apologetically. "Your new Talon, young Grayson..."

"Alfred, you've been warning me against the boy since we landed here. He's loyal, I know it," Thomas said.

"He is loyal, sir," Pennyworth replied. "But to whom?"

"Batman is dead. He's not coming back," Thomas said. "I saw the door close and he's on the other side of it. Dick has no choice but to ally with me; I'm the only thing standing between him and Ultraman. He has to be loyal to us or he'll be killed."

"I simply have a suggestion," Pennyworth said. "To force him into our company more quickly, I'd suggest you get the boy blooded sooner rather than later. The boy worships his former mentor. We both know that he has never killed and was conditioned against it by Batman. Once he kills, he is ours."

"Hmmmm," Thomas commented. "You may be right, there. I may have a suitable target for him as well. I understand that there is a certain police commissioner in Gotham City who is known to be incorruptible. What's the man's name? Gordon. I think that's it. Dick's first target as my new talon will be Commissioner James Gordon."


	7. Talon

CHAPTER 7

METROPOLIS, now renamed ULTROPOLIS

Ultraman strode from the headquarters of the Daily Planet. He'd just laid eyes on the counterparts of his rivals at the newspaper. Young James Olson would be nursing a broken hand for the next several months, while this world's Lois Lane cursed Ultraman for it. He smiled. He liked it when he could dominate the loved ones belonging to his absent counterpart.

He stopped on the pavement and glanced overhead. Unlike the smoggy skies of his own home city, the setting sun shone down bright from the heavens. He could feel the prickles of the light even as dusk approached. His aversion to bright light, especially the full spectrum of the sun, was a well-kept secret. His own earth was blanketed by pollution, so that only the red end of the spectrum reached the ground and he had found that he preferred it that way.

He glanced up again. He didn't have to suffer from this white sun. He was Ultraman and had no equals here, only subordinate slaves. He could dim that damned light. He lifted himself into the sky, feeling the pain of the light growing and growing, beginning to burn his skin with its brilliance. He put on more speed and soon was in orbit.

He flew into the shadow of the moon and rested in the darkness. What he needed was an eclipse; no, something that would last longer. He smiled to himself and calculated the angles of velocity he would need to achieve his goal. It was tricky, but he was Kryptonian, with a superior brain.

He laid his hands into the sandy soil and began to push the moon. He impelled the moon along its regular orbit around earth, only faster and faster until he had gathered enough momentum to slingshot the huge rock out of its original orbit and into space.

He wrestled with it, jockeying it into an orbit around the sun as though it were a planet. Sweating now, he adjusted the angle a bit until the moon mirrored the Earth, always on the day side. The moon would forever stay between the Earth and the sun, leaving Earth's day side forever in the moon's shadow as if in partial eclipse. Light enough to see by, but a comfortable red rather than daggerlike white.

Laughing in triumph, Ultraman surveyed his handiwork for a moment. Moving that much mass had been difficult and he was tired. He hadn't refueled lately; he needed sustenance. Fortunately, the files at the Watchtower had provided an answer for his immediate needs. He arched his back and swung an arc back to the Earth. It was time he visited Owlman at Wayne Manor in Gotham City.

* * *

><p>Batman flew through the night. The eight hour flight from West Coast to East taxed his already depleted body. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd slept, but it was probably nearer 60 hours.<p>

Ever since the JLA had been jumped, he'd been working at getting them all out. They'd discovered that magical energy could create a gateway home, but Zatanna could only save one person at a time before she had to replenish her magical energies. By general agreement, Batman went first to scout the situation. As Green Arrow had commented, Batman was the 'sneakiest' member of the League.

The next member, Superman, should be out by now, making his way up from the gateway Z had built. He should really be in that Nevada mine shaft waiting for Clark when he arrived, ready to plan to take the planet back. The image of Dick on that television broadcast ran through his mind. The boy looked like all the fight had been beaten out of him...No, this time the world would have to wait.

Batman pulled the cowl back and rubbed gritty eyes. He was no good to Dick this fatigued. He'd land the jet and get some rest, then go after his boy and hope he wasn't too late.

* * *

><p>HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND<p>

Bide-a-Wee Motel

Morning

Matches Malone heard the alarm at his bedside go off. He creaked out of bed, cursing the lumpy mattress. He dressed quickly in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts and sandals with socks. While shaving, he listened to Channel 52, then turned to watch the broadcast, mouth open in shock.

"What the hell?" He said to the universe in general and opened the motel room door to a dull orange day. The sun was an red ball in a cloudless sky. What light it provided lacked vitality and the sky was a blue so dark it was almost purple.

"Ultraman," Matches whispered to himself. Channel 52 said that the moon had suddenly changed orbit, blocking the sun's light in a vast band around the Earth's northern circumference. Fifty-two didn't know how it was done or who did it, but Matches knew. Only one being he'd ever known had that power and Clark wouldn't do it. Only his evil double would do something like that for his own purposes. Hold the Earth to ransom, maybe?

If the sun were dimmed for too long, the crops would fail. The climate would drop to freezing in the affected areas. The glaciers would return and millions would die from starvation or freeze to death. Something had to be done about this. Now, before more damage was caused.

Matches muttered to himself. "We need contact with our satellites and there's only one way to get that." They needed control of the Watchtower. Since Dick was there already, he could save both Dick and the Earth. That was the plan, then: get Dick, check the satellite telemetry to find out just what had happened out there, contact Superman and return the moon to where it belonged. He bared his teeth in a rage-filled grin. And then go after Ultraman and his cronies.

An hour later, Matches Malone, wandered down the Happy Harbor beach. Surprisingly, he wasn't alone. Other tourists had gathered on the sand, taking pictures of the Watchtower wreckage and holding signs with slogans like "Welcome Aliens" and "Save Us From Ourselves".

Matches briefly curled his lip, then iron control reasserted itself. People had always looked in the wrong places for saviors; this was no different. He surveyed both the crowd and the area.

"Hey, Mister!" a man's voice shouted. Matches turned to see a beefy guy in sweats offer him a camera. "The wife and I want to get a shot. Would you take a picture?"

Obligingly, Matches watched while Sweatshirt and his similarly dressed wife grinned for the camera. Silently, Matches handed it back.

"You want us to take a picture of you, too?" Sweatshirt asked.

"Naw, no thanks," Matches said, brandishing his own camera. "History doesn't need my ugly mug in it." He raised his camera, adjusted the viewfinder and looked closely at the wreckage, snapping off a dozen or so photos. All was quiet at the Watchtower. There was no sign of any of the Crime Syndicate members.

He went back down the beach and slipped into the underbrush. So, Barbara was in 'the old clubhouse', was she? Matches returned to the cheap car he'd bought and followed a dirt road to a mountainous rock edging the beach, laughingly called Mount Justice by the locals. He parked the car behind some bushes.

Batman emerged, wearing a uniform taken from one of his many equipment drops. He found the old side entrance, carefully making his way through the access tunnels to the JLA's first headquarters. The heart of the "mountain" was lit and no longer smelled disused. Someone was here. He moved closer to find that most of the computers had been uncovered and a shadowy form was huddled over a keyboard.

"Took you long enough to get here," Barbara Gordon, aka Batgirl, said crisply.

Batman snorted and strode over to Batgirl's position. She'd gotten cocky since a medical miracle had taken her from wheelchair to active duty, but nothing had dimmed her gift with a computer.

"Unavoidable," Batman grunted. "Report."

Barbara swung around on the chair. "I can't find Dick; not here, anyway. I got here this morning and I think he was already gone by then." She hit a button and the screen lit up. A gurney was wheeled into the belly of a jet. She hit another button and the image zoomed.

"Owlman," Batman growled.

"I think Dick's on the gurney," Batgirl said. "And look at this." She zoomed in again.

"Alfred?" Batman said. "No, it can't be. Look at his skin...and his hair...Is the film at fault?"

"No," Batgirl said. "He really does have green hair. Exposure to some especially nasty Joker toxin. He's not our Alfred." She shuddered. "He seems to be attached to Owlman. And Dick seems to be, as well," she said in a low tone.

"What do you mean?" Batman asked. "Dick would never turn traitor."

"I wouldn't think so either, but I've hacked into the Watchtower systems and I found this." She ran more footage of a fight between Dick and Owlman, Owlman's offer of alliance and Dick's response.

"He's allying with Owlman to take down the Syndicate," Batman said firmly. "Dick would never join them. He's playing for time. Let's see some more."

They watched the remaining footage and at last saw Dick loaded onto Owlman's jet again. "Owlman is behaving as though Dick was a friend...or family," Batgirl said.

Batman said nothing, eyes glued to the monitor.

"What now, Boss?" Batgirl asked. "Rescue Dick or take the Watchtower?"

"Yes," Batman said.

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY<p>

Morning

Dick woke in his own bed after a nightmare-filled night. Thank goodness it was finally morning. Yawning, he scratched his head and opened the drapes. The day looked...wrong. He leaned out the window. There weren't any clouds but the daylight looked...he leaned out farther...it looked dim somehow.

He turned on his bedside radio and found the latest broadcast, listening with a growing horror. Something had happened to the moon and the sun was almost completely blotted out over the United States and Europe. Some new danger was threatening Earth and its heroes were gone. All they had left were the metas Dick could still find and the members of the Syndicate...

"Thomas!" he shouted and ran from his room. He found the man at the breakfast table, looking so much like Bruce it took Dick's breath away. Dammit, he even parted his hair on the same side.

"Yes, Dick?" Thomas asked pleasantly, putting down his copy of the Gotham Gazette. "What can I do for you?"

"Have you looked outside? Heard the news? About the moon?" Dick felt like he was babbling and went silent.

"You mean the change in the moon's orbit? I expected something like this," Thomas said and gestured towards the other seat at the table. "Why don't you pour yourself some coffee and we'll talk about it."

Dumbly, Dick seated himself, unable to comprehend Thomas' lack of concern. Then, "Wait. You expected this?"

"Ultraman has a very few weaknesses, known only to me," Thomas said. "One is that strong, full-spectrum sunlight has the power to harm him. In lower doses it causes pain and weakness. On our Earth, the sunlight was filtered through heavy pollutants and had a red tinge, just as it is today. I imagine that he adjusted it to fit his needs. Does that bother you?"

Dick was taken aback. He had been hoping that he could use Thomas' apparent affection for him to befriend him and create a true ally. But now? "Yes, it does bother me. This planet is my home. What will this do to the climate? To peoples' lives? The ecology?"

"I've been reading in your literature about the threat of global warming. I imagine that less sunshine would lead to a cooling of the climate, solving your problem. Aside from that, people will adjust and a few species teetering on the brink will go over, to be replaced by others. The strong will survive, as nature always intended." Thomas finally took in Dick's appalled expression. "This really does upset you."

"Yes," Dick said. "And I can't understand that you aren't affected. What are you?"

Thomas sighed. "I'm a man, Dick, who grew up on a world where it was understood that life is a constant fight for survival. Only the strong survive and only they deserve to. In turn, the next generation gains those improved traits. Did you have a Charles Darwin on this Earth?"

"Yes, we did. He was a 19th century scientist who created the theory of evolution," Dick replied.

Thomas nodded. "On our Earth, too. He was a great dictator who ruled England with a strong hand. He implemented a eugenics program that changed the face of Europe, long before Hitler refined it. Because of these great men, most of the hereditary diseases were eliminated in three generations."

Dick blinked. "So, uh, you never had a Second World War?"

"Yes, we did. Germany won and annexed all of Europe then negotiated a separate peace with the Mafia that ruled the United States. Isn't that what happened here?" Thomas asked. "I've always been interested in history and the way this Earth evolved is so peculiar, I'd like to know more."

_'Peculiar', he says._ Dick swallowed hard. "I think I'll have that coffee now."

After long discussion, Dick was left with an unsettled feeling. Thomas was generous and, in his own Gotham, had distributed charity liberally to those he ruled. He was also ruthless and believed absolutely in his code of survival of the fittest. Bruce had made Dick read Machiavelli's "The Prince". Now it seemed that he was working with a true Machiavellian now.

His stomach feeling vaguely upset, Dick went downstairs to the cave to be fitted for his Talon costume.

"Yes sir, you look a proper Talon, now," Pennyworth brushed a bit of lint from Dick's shoulder and pushed him towards the mirror. "Not as good as the original, but a very acceptable representation under the circumstances."

Dick looked glumly at his reflection. Pennyworth had taken one of Batman's gray outfits, beefed up the body armor and added a matching gorget at his throat. The bat symbol on the chest was gone, substituted with an owl badge. Twin bandoliers loaded with tiny knives crossed his chest while a utility belt sat at his hips. Black boots and round goggles with white eye-pieces completed the outfit.

"I can barely move in this," Dick complained. "Even Batman didn't wear body armor this thick."

"Master Thomas is concerned for your safety, Master Dick," Pennyworth said placidly. "He worries that he might lose another Talon. Humor him for the time being and we can make adjustments later. Oh, and Master Thomas asked me to tell you that he'd like you to do your usual workout in the suit this morning as a way to adjust yourself to it. He plans you to attend the meeting at the Iceberg Lounge this afternoon."

Dick's lips twisted. "Penguin."

"I believe that is Mr. Cobblepot's nickname, sir," Pennyworth replied.

"Oh, and Pennyworth, where is Alfred this morning?" Dick asked.

Pennyworth's face stilled. "He is well, sir, and performing his duties around the house under my supervision. As a loyal member of the household, his safety is assured, as is yours."

"I see," Dick said, watching Pennyworth climb the steps to the study above.

Grumbling under his breath, Dick moved over to the gym area of the cave and began his usual workout, albeit without the goggles. The outfit was stiff, but not as heavy as the Batman uniform and cape had been. He could move, although not as stiffly as he wanted. He was in the middle of a kata when the wall on the far side of the cave exploded inward in a hail of dust and rock.

Ultraman sped into the center of the batcave, surveying the area with an appraising glance. He caught sight of Dick Grayson immediately.

"So, Thomas has replaced his Talon after all," Ultraman boomed jovially. "I'm glad. Welcome to the team," he said.

"Uh, thank you," Dick said guardedly. "Is there an emergency?" he asked, looking pointedly at the hole in the wall.

"I'm looking for something of Batman's, so maybe you can help me find it. The records at the Watchtower spoke of a kryptonite ring that Batman had confiscated from Lex Luthor. Where is it?"

Startled, Dick almost choked. "You want kryptonite? Isn't that stuff poison to you?"

"Far from it," Ultraman said. "Although I understand that your old friend Superman was affected by it. Get the ring for me. I want it." Ultraman frowned a little. "Get it for me. Now."

If it wasn't a poison, what was it then? Dick's mind raced. Opposites. A fuel, then? Like sunlight was to Superman? Kryptonite was rare on Earth, so very rare that this might be the only supply left. The Syndicate had bulldozed its way across his planet and no one had resisted them. Suddenly, he was angry. No, he was enraged.

"Feeling a little rundown, are you?" Dick said. "After blocking the sun and putting the moon in a new orbit this morning?" Arms folded across his chest, Dick said, "No."

"You deny me?" Ultraman growled, his eyes glowing red. "I should have killed you. Get me the kryptonite or Owlman be damned, you will die."

"No," Dick repeated, altering his stance, becoming combat-ready. He'd sparred with Superman before, knowing that the Man of Steel was always pulling his punches. He might survive a while against Ultraman, but the end result was predetermined. He was probably going to die today.

But he was not going to give in to that monster.

Ultraman's face lit up in unholy glee, his fists raised, as he charged at Dick.

* * *

><p>Author's note: Is anyone out there reading this? I've had a few reviews, but I can hear the walls echoing out here...<p> 


	8. Dancing For Your Life

CHAPTER 8 

Dick dodged the first blow and the second. The villain's face was now red with anger as Dick ran at Ultraman himself, grabbed the man's shoulders and leapt over him, landing safely behind him. By the time Ultraman had whirled around, Dick was perched on top of one of the Crays and in flight again.

Dick couldn't hide his delighted grin. If Dick had sparred with Superman , Ultraman clearly had never sparred with Talon. A quick blow from Ultraman's fist cut short that thought. _Oh no. He's starting to think._

Dick moved faster, thankful that he knew the cave better than Ultraman did. Dick jumped and ran across a bank of computers, then bounced off two sets of filing cabinets, only to find Ultraman waiting for him. Dick recoiled and threw himself back, too late. Ultraman's beefy fist hit him dead center in the sternum and his formerly cracked ribs flared in agony. He gasped and rolled into the cave wall, springing upright with adrenalin-fueled speed. No, Ultraman must have been inside the cave on the other Earth. Dick didn't have home field advantage anymore and Ultraman had taken his measure.

Funny, while Owlman reminded him so much of Batman, Ultraman wasn't at all like Clark. Sure, they looked alike, but there were no similarities in personality at all. The constant rage and arrogance put a completely different cast on this Kryptonian's face. He could work with that.

"So," Dick said, wiping blood from his nose and dancing out of Ultraman's reach. "You never sparred with Talon? Too bad." He grinned, goading him. If he could get this monster to stop thinking, he could still survive. Maybe.

Ultraman grimaced and remembered that he had the power of flight, following Dick's every movement from cabinet to wall to table. _He's playing with me, now. He knows he could kill me in a second. _"So, you don't like Talons?" Dick drawled. "We too cute for you? Or is it Owlman you hate?"

"Talon was always an annoying child with an obnoxious sense of humor. The Joker did me a favor, disposing of him. That boy made Owlman soft, compassionate," Ultraman spat, swiping at his opponent with a broad fist, only just missing him by a hair. "Talon made Owlman _weak_."

His ribs hurting, Dick perched on top of the monitor array panting for breath. The torment of the last few days were starting to affect him and he was tiring too soon. As Ultraman swooped at him, he let himself fall and barely caught himself on a computer console, looking for tiny nooks he could squeeze into. _What are my advantages? I'm fast, I'm smaller than Ultraman and I'm calmer than he is. He's not used to sustained opposition. Use that. _He wondered briefly whether he truly had allies. Would Owlman defend him against Ultraman? He couldn't count on that. Ultraman swiped at him and partially connected, throwing Dick skidding onto the floor. _Focus, Dick!_ he heard Bruce's voice in his head and scrambled away as fast as he could. Not fast enough.

Ultraman's eyes took on an even brighter red gleam. He put on a burst of speed and finally caught up to miserable annoyance of a Talon. Wrapping his fingers around Dick's neck, he slowly began to squeeze.

Dick clawed for air, hearing the whistle in his throat get louder and harsher as the iron fingers closed off all breath. He tried every defensive move that Bruce had ever taught him, but Ultraman just stood like a steel pillar, fingers digging ever deeper. His hunger for air was overwhelming but Dick knew that this was it. He'd laughed at risk all his life and finally lost the bet. He knew that his adoptive father was alive somewhere and he was sad that Bruce would probably blame himself for this. The light dimmed and finally went away. 

* * *

><p>NEVADA, NEAR LAUGHLIN<p>

"Where are we?" Diana asked, looking around at the desert. "I don't recognize this desert."

"We're in the United States," Superman said, picking up an old newspaper held down by a rock. Attached to the newspaper was a small piece of paper with a bat printed on it. "Bruce was here, though. Oh, I see." He handed it to Wonder Woman.

"Nevada? But he also recommends that we don't disclose our presence and not to contact him." Diana finished reading the note. "And he's bought us clothing at the local MallMart. He wants us to take the train?"

"The tickets are good for multiple trains and the security is looser. Don't worry, once we hit Kansas, we'll stop at my parents' house and find out the situation. From there, I can run or fly and carry you the rest of the way." Clark said, opening a large plastic bag. He chuckled. "He even found me another pair of glasses." He pulled out a pair of men's jeans, red and yellow shirt, underwear, socks and sneakers. "There are more bags. Looks like he has clothing for everyone else in the League. He's labeled them. There are enough train passes for everybody. Here's your wardrobe." He handed her a bag.

Diana peered into the sack. "It will do, I suppose." She began removing clothing from the bag. Low slung jeans, red and blue t-shirt, sneakers and, "However did he guess my bra size?" she said, holding up a pink lace bra.

She smiled when Clark turned red. He averted his eyes while Wonder Woman dressed. Superman himself dressed in a blur and soon the two were on foot, ready to catch the next train. 

* * *

><p>HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND<p>

WATCHTOWER WRECKAGE

Hidden in the underbrush outside the remains of the Watchtower, Batgirl ran swift fingers over a small tablet in her hand.

"Well?" Batman asked.

"It works," Batgirl, nee Oracle, said with a smile. "I've just shut down all computer systems inside the Watchtower as well as the generators. That should also immobilize Grid and seal the doors as well."

"Good," Batman said, heading for the side of the downed satellite. "And Clark thought I was paranoid because I insisted on adding hidden manual access." He grabbed a handle and pulled open a small door, activating a quick release, then pulled open a hatch. He climbed inside a tube, barely wide enough for his shoulders to fit through. Batgirl followed and closed the hatch behind her. She activated a cold-light tube and in the green glow they climbed up to the next floor.

The door opened easily. Batman dropped to the floor, followed by Batgirl. "We're on the medical level. Control is up one," Batman said. "Search the levels below this one and immobilize anyone you find there. I'll go to control and deal with whoever is there."

"What if it's Ultraman?" Batgirl murmured. "You don't have your kryptonite, do you?"

"I'll improvise," Batman said. "We have to neutralize Grid and make sure that their communications are destroyed. Then we can pick them off one at a time."

Batgirl nodded. "And reactivate our own network on the backup channels. Hopefully they're not compromised. I should go with you to control and deal with Grid, find out what he knows."

Even in the dim light, she saw his heavy frown. "No. Too dangerous."

"We could still go after Nightwing. We know he's in Gotham." Batgirl said quietly.

Batman stilled. "No. The mission has to take priority. From the security videos, we know that Owlman has formed some kind of...connection...with him. I don't think that Dick's in any immediate danger. And besides," he added. "Alfred is at the Manor. He'll watch out for Dick."

"All right, Batman," Barbara said and slipped away into the darkness. Batman watched her go, then straightened his shoulders and made his way to the access tube. He couldn't quiet a nagging feeling that he needed to get to Dick, but that wasn't logical. Batman had to restore communications so that the rest of the League could defeat the Syndicate and restore the moon to its original position. Dick was safe enough where he was.


	9. Alliances

CHAPTER 9

GOTHAM CITY

WAYNE MANOR

"Where's Dick?" Thomas asked Pennyworth while finishing some paperwork in the study. The process of substituting Wayne's 'cousin' in as head of WE would take some time. "Did you fit him with the equipment?"

"He is downstairs, sir, in the cave," Pennyworth answered. "I fitted him with the Talon suit and conveyed your instructions. He seemed to find it heavier than what he was used to, but agreed to try it. I imagine that he is still exercising.

"Good...good," Thomas replied. "And where is Alfred? I don't think I've seen him this morning." He set the paperwork down, well aware of Pennyworth's overprotective instincts. "You haven't done anything to him, have you? The boy loves him."

"Nothing permanent," Pennyworth said. "He is locked in one of the secure rooms in the house. I will bring him his meals and he understands that if he behaves himself, no harm will come to the boy. Of course, this is only a threat. I know your wishes with regards to Dick Grayson," he added quickly, seeing his master's face begin to cloud over. "Erm...Once Talon is fully trained and blooded, Alfred can be released without any harm. Coffee, sir?"

"Yes, I would like some, thank you, Pennyworth. Very well, Alfred can remain where he is for the time being." The old man returned quickly with coffee tray. Thomas accepted a cup and relaxed back into his chair. "This new boy, so like our own Talon... I worry about him. He has the same light in him that our own Dick Grayson had. I...can't help but feel the same affection for him that I did our own boy. Talon was almost a son, certainly a brother at the least. And now, this Dick Grayson is so much like him, a spot of brilliance in an increasingly dark world. We have to protect him, Pennyworth. Dick has to be made to adjust to his new reality somehow. If we can't bring him to heel, Ultraman will kill him." He cast Pennyworth a bleak glance. "I've wondered about Talon's death. Dick and I spent years fighting the Joker and every time, Dick simply danced out of that mad clown's grasp. I just can't believe that the Joker got him so easily."

"You think that the Joker had help?" Pennyworth queried, face paling even more.

"What better way to bring me under control than by destroying my allies. Ultraman leads us, but only because he has the superior powers, brute force. He lets his rage rule him too much. I think that he suspects my relationship with Superwoman. Destroy those I love, destroy me," Thomas said bitterly. "Yes, it's an unpardonable weakness in me, that I cherish my family, but I don't plan to do without you and Dick," he said. "So, watch out for yourself, old friend. And protect Dick Grayson. I can't lose him again."

"Sometimes I think that you value that boy more than you do me," Pennyworth said, picking up Thomas' cup and the tray.

"You know that isn't true, Alfred. You raised me!" Thomas replied with a smile. "No, it's only that Dick doesn't know Ultraman and the rest of the Syndicate, and why he is a particular target."

"Aimed at you, sir?" Pennyworth said. "Well, then, we simply shall have to ensure that Master Dick becomes a fully blooded part of the family, forthwith."

"Yes, we do, " Thomas said, climbing to his feet. "I'm going downstairs to spar with Dick." 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

Dick felt the breath rasping in his throat. Ultraman had released his grip just enough for him to draw in air. The young hero gasped and pulled in as much as he could take in, seeing a dim caricature of Superman's face suffused red with rage.

"Had enough, have you?" Dick croaked. "You ready to surrender?"

"Not dead yet, are you?" Ultraman rumbled. "Let's see how many times I can revive you before you finally die and leave that sentimental fool grieving again."

The metal gorget had protected his throat so far, but it had bent inward under the pressure of Ultraman's fingers. He could feel it pressing against his Adam's apple even when the monster wasn't applying force. If Ultraman actually snapped his hyoid bone, he'd be dead for sure, but until he did that, Dick could survive. He'd already tried to escape Ultraman's grasp without success. The only thing left was to keep trying and hope for rescue. 

* * *

><p>WATCHTOWER<p>

HAPPY HARBOR, RI

Batman crept into the main control room of the Watchtower. All was quiet and Grid stood before the displays. Grid was composed of the mechanical pieces of Cyborg that had gained sentience and broken away, leaving the man stranded and being tended to at S.T.A.R. Labs. The strangeness of Grid's existence didn't faze the Batman, he was long inured to sheer weirdness of his life. Rather he dispassionately tallied up Grid's probable weaknesses and planned his attack.

"I know that you are there behind me Batman, two meters and six centimeters," Grid intoned in a nearly emotionless voice. "You wish to return me to my former servitude to Victor Stone."

Batman strode forward as Grid turned to face him. "No, I have no wish to enslave you or anyone. But have you analyzed the motives of the Crime Syndicate you are allied to? They will put entire populations in chains, including you."

"You speak from a position of weakness," Grid said. "Statistically, the Crime Syndicate is more likely to prevail." It walked towards Batman. "Therefore, I will defend mine." It swung a heavy fist at Batman.

Anticipating the blow, Batman dodged and activated a device at his belt which emitted a magnetic pulse calculated to scramble Grid's circuitry. Grid stumbled but caught itself and dove for Batman again. Again, Batman's hand went to his utility belt, seeking the next defensive gadget.

A mini-laser shot red light towards Grid, forcing the machine to duck behind cover, not very injured. Batman and Grid danced around the room, moving swiftly and with surprising grace. Finally, Batman resorted to simple brutality, landing punches and kicks calculated to knock Grid off balance and allow the laser to do some damage. The fight was going too slowly, he realized. While relatively few of Grid's blows were landing, Batman was beginning to tire but Grid wouldn't.

From his peripheral vision Batman spotted Batgirl, crouched at a corner workstation, typing swiftly. He had no idea what she was doing, but knew that Oracle was watching his back. Relieved, he pushed harder and began to land more and more blows, using the laser to pit and sear more circuitry and, above all, keep Grid's attention focused on Batman and away from Batgirl.

Grid's defeat was sudden and without warning either to Batman or to Grid itself. Literally, one moment it was charging forward and the next it's power was cut. It fell, landing hard and landed in a clanking heap on the floor at Batman's feet.

Batman backed a step or two, then pushed at it with the toe of his boot. Batgirl broke away from her workstation and moved to stand at Batman's right. She bent over the pile of metal and delicately broke open a panel and tore away a small control box. The few remaining lights showing on Grid's body faded to black.

She smiled and handed the box to Batman. "I found the specs for the prosthetics that make up Grid in the S.T.A.R. Labs database and hacked into Grid's control systems."

"You shut it down," Batman said, examining the control box. "The CPU?"

"Yes. The rest of the building is deserted, but I've located the rest of the Syndicate." She paused, frowning. "I also discovered that there were some recordings from the closed circuit system that we didn't hack: Dick's interrogation..."

"Queue them up. I need to see them," Batman interrupted, putting the CPU into his utility belt.

She said nothing, but didn't call up the video either.

Batman said, his voice rough, "Batgirl, I need to find out what Dick told them. We have to know who to warn, who to protect and which of our secrets they got out of him."

"I know Dick isn't a traitor," Batgirl said. "You were right before. I didn't give Dick enough credit; he's been undercover before and he can be a pretty convincing liar when he has to be. We both know that he wouldn't give them anything, under any circumstances..."

Batman went over to the work station and brought up the video feed himself. "They broke him. I saw it in his face on those televised announcements. Dick has had full SERE training, but this isn't a question of standing up under torture or even drugs. Superwoman carries the lasso of submission. Under it's control he couldn't keep himself from answering any question or following any order given him. The only way he could evade an answer would be by interpreting the question very narrowly and giving an absolutely truthful but limited answer. An unskilled interrogator might not notice it but..."

Barbara's face had paled. "A skilled one would drain him dry."

"Precisely," Batman said and hit the button that started the tape. 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY<p>

BATCAVE

"Ultraman! Let him go!"

Ultraman looked up from the limp form he held by the neck in his beefy hands. He'd been about to twist and finish this irritating boy off. At the foot of some stone stairs he saw Thomas Wayne, face darkening with rage. Ultraman smirked at his old rival.

"So, this is the way you train a new talon?" he said. "This...boy...defied me. He's no more a part of our group than Batman was!"

"Let him go," Thomas repeated, approaching a metal table stacked with equipment. Without looking away from Ultraman, he rummaged for one particular item he had prepared, just in case it was needed. "Now!" he shouted and lifted the 'weapon' in his right hand. A powerful white light shot from his hand and centered on Ultraman's face. Ultraman gasped and dropped Dick to cover his face with both hands.

Panting harshly, Dick crawled to his feet and dashed away to cover, leaving Ultraman cowering in the spotlight.

As Thomas and the light moved forward, Ultraman slowly began to back away.

"I told you to drop him. I'm sorry to have to do this, Clark, but you forced the issue. How did my new talon defy you enough for you to want to kill him?" Thomas risked a brief glance at Dick, collapsed in a heap next to him, but conscious.

"Why do you care so much for him?" Ultraman asked, turning his head away from the light and shielding himself with both arms. "Turn that blasted thing off!"

"You're lucky you didn't kill him." Thomas switched the brilliant flashlight off.

"You haven't answered my question," Ultraman lowered his hands and stood upright. "And now he knows my secret, too!" Ultraman's eyes glowed red. "He's a danger to me."

"As my talon, he's an ally," Thomas said. He reached out a hand and helped Dick to his feet. "He's not a threat to you as long as you and I are allies. Why are you here?" Thomas asked, one eye on Dick shuffling towards the medical section of the cave. "Why did you attack my talon? I protect my own; I hope you have a good reason." Thomas shot Ultraman with a glare very like the one that made Gotham criminals shake in their shoes.

"I needed more kryptonite," Ultraman said. "The records say that Batman had a ring with a kryptonite stone. I came to get it. Your new talon refused to give it to me!" Ultraman glared at the young man, slowly beginning to patch himself up.

"And for this you almost killed him?" Thomas said. He strode over to a cabinet, pressed his hand on a panel and swung the heavy door open. Removing a wooden box, he opened the lid and showed the contents to Ultraman. "These were the weapons Batman gathered to be used if the Justice League ever went rogue." A single ring with a yellow stone occupied the box. Next to it lay an empty hollow. "The kryptonite ring is gone. Batman must have it, because I certainly don't. Talon," Thomas gestured with his chin towards Dick. "couldn't have given it to you in any case." He shut the lid. "Not that there was enough kryptonite in the ring to do you much good. You're still tired from changing the moon's orbit, aren't you? What are you going to do for kryptonite now? It's very rare here. Our Earth had more."

"There are scientists here. We can force them to make synthetic kryptonium," Ultraman snarled. "You have the research labs. Do it!"

"Oh, I'll see that you get what you need," Thomas said. "Count on it."

Author's note: A gorget is a tall collar of steel or leather that protects the neck from blows or choking. SERE, Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape training is offered to military members to teach them to survive questioning as POWs. It is controversial in that it teaches and subjects its trainees to advanced interrogation techniques up to and including torture.

Again, sorry for the delay. A combination of carpal tunnel and work have conspired to slow me down, but not stop me.


	10. Alfred

CHAPTER 10

GOTHAM CITY

BATCAVE

Ultraman left in a huff, Thomas standing by to watch him go. Once he was certain that his ally had left, he turned to Dick, in the medical bay. The boy had stripped off the Talon shirt and was painfully unwrapping his old bandages to look at his new wounds. Thomas hissed when he saw the quickly darkening new bruises that overlay the original ones. Last of all, Dick tried to remove the gorget, now bent out of shape and seemingly locked around his neck. Trying to pull both ends away, he groaned with the effort as his ribs twinged.

"Here, let me try," Thomas said softly and pulled the gorget apart, releasing Dick's neck. Feeling the metal give way, Dick let out a long, relieved sigh while Thomas caught his breath. A pattern of bright fingerprints were painted across the skin of Dick's throat, ranging from swollen red to deep purple. "My god," Thomas said. "He would have killed you if not for the gorget. You need more professional help than I can provide, lad. "He went to the intercom. "Pennyworth, please step downstairs. Your medical skills are needed."

"You aren't injured sir, are you?" Pennyworth replied.

"No, not me. Our Talon had a run-in with Ultraman. He needs some care for a possible throat injury and his ribs rechecked," Thomas replied.

"I'll be down forthwith," Pennyworth said.

"No," Dick husked, looking up at Thomas with tired blue eyes. "Not Pennyworth. Please. Can I see Alfred? He's the one who's always doctored me up after an injury."

Thomas considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. I'll have Pennyworth send him down."

"Thomas," Dick said and his would-be mentor stopped.

"Yes, Dick?" Thomas said.

"Thank you. For rescuing me, I mean," Dick said. "I shouldn't have provoked him but my temper got in the way. Batma..." Dick closed his eyes. "Batman has always told me that I need to control my temper better. He was right." Dick shook his head ruefully.

"It's no more than I'm already used to, Dick," Thomas said, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. "My own Talon had a temper much like yours. I can't fault you your reaction to Ultraman." Thomas' lip curled. "He gets to me like that pretty often. I'm just more used to the idiot." Thomas smiled at Dick's surprise. "Yes, I'm human after all. Clark would be more effective If he used his brain instead of his muscles. But that's an advantage we can exploit."

"I can see that," Dick said. "But the kryptonite? Is it really gone? Batman usually doesn't carry it unless he knows that Superman has gone off the deep end. The radioactivity is harmful to humans over time."

Thomas' smile broadened to a boyish grin. "I found the lead-lined safe Batman keeps and put it there just in case Ultraman came snooping. I have no desire to keep him refueled. Given kryptonite's rarity and the way Clark is going through existing supplies, it might become a bargaining chip if needed."

Dick's face cracked into a grin and he laughed, then recoiled, one hand on his ribs and the other to his throat. "I'm glad to know that you really are breaking with him."

"Oh, there's no question that I'm done with him," Thomas said, eyeing Dick. "He really gave you a beating, didn't he?"

Dick started to shrug, then thought better of it. "Goes with the territory."

"Will you be able to watch my back at the Iceberg Lounge today?" Thomas asked.

"Unless Alfred grounds me, yes," Dick said. "You don't want to go in there alone. Penguin will have all his tame thugs attending."

"I see," Thomas said thoughtfully. "Well, I don't want you to pull any punches, either with my safety or yours. We won't open with violence, but if anyone attacks either of us, kill him. We need to make a point about our ruthlessness."

Dick paled. "I...uh...I don't kill. No. I can restrain them without killing."

Thomas shook his head. "Not good enough. I need to make them fear me, enough that they will obey me and, hopefully, enforce my dictates on other gangs. I'm just one man with you as backup. I don't have an army or the time to establish a position here. It has to be fast, so I expect to wring a few necks to persuade Penguin that I mean business." He frowned. "You do plan to be part of this team, don't you?"

"Of course he is," Pennyworth said, approaching them silently from behind. "The lad understands what's at stake perfectly. Now, I can see that he needs some medical attention indeed."

"Of course," Thomas repeated, face clearing. "But he'd like to be attended by his old friend, Alfred. Would you escort him downstairs, Pennyworth?"

Pennyworth paused, then smiled icily. "Yes, sir. I'll bring him right down."

A few minutes later, Pennyworth reappeared with Alfred in tow. To Dick's eyes, the old butler looked tired and worried. Alfred brightened when he saw Dick, then frowned and the worried look returned.

"What has happened to you, my boy?" he asked, then turned angrily on Pennyworth. "What have you been doing to him?"

"Nothing, Alfred," Dick said, his voice echoing hoarsely in the cavern. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Ultraman paid the cave a visit and he took offense at something I said. I needed to be patched up and Thomas generously allowed me to see my usual doctor." Dick gave Alfred his brightest grin, which fooled the old man not one whit.

"Very well, then," Alfred said. "Let's get you x-rayed. Your ribs look as though they took a drubbing." He glanced back at Pennyworth and Thomas. "If that is permissible?"

Thomas took the hint. "Come on, Pennyworth. We have work to do upstairs. Let's leave them to it."

"But sir, the cave has its own exits and..." Pennyworth replied, then silenced at a look from Thomas.

"Alfred, let me know whether Dick will be fit for duty this afternoon, would you? I'll need his services as a bodyguard." Thomas said genially and went on. "Dick, rest a bit. I'll check on you later. Come along, Pennyworth."

He led and his own butler followed, albeit reluctantly. When they had left the cave, Alfred leaned in and spoke in a low whisper. "Now really, what happened to you?"

"Just what I said, Alfie," Dick said. "I pissed off the Big Guy; refused to give him Batman's kryptonite. Looks like Ultraman lives on the stuff. Thomas got him to let me go by shining a high-intensity full spectrum light on him."

"Interesting," Alfred said. "Well, then, let's get those ribs x-rayed. And by the sound of it, Ultraman throttled you? Your voice has clearly been affected, I can see the fingerprints..." Alfred wheeled over the portable x-ray machine and set the plate. "Lay still now."

"Gladly," Dick said, closing his eyes. "Alfie, we need to talk."

"Soon enough," Alfred said. "I think an MRI of your neck is warranted to assess the tissue damage. Come with me."

"MRI?" Dick knew that he was whining, but he'd never liked being stuffed into that long tube. Bruce had thriftily bought one of the older, closed-in models. It was so narrow that it could spark claustrophobia in anybody.

Jason had flatly refused to use it. "I dug my way out of a grave once already," he'd said. "Make up an excuse and send me to the hospital for the open machine if you have to." Jason had had a point.

Dick smiled as he followed Alfred into the small control room. Alfred closed the door behind them and locked it, then carefully typed a few commands into the computer. He opened the connecting door to the machine itself.

"Help me," the butler said and began to pile pillows onto the bed of the machine. At his direction, Dick followed suit, then helped Alfred put a blanket over the pile.

"That should do it," Alfred said. "I hope you're comfortable. I'll do multiple scans, so relax, it may be a while."

Dick looked at him, perplexed. "But, Alfred, I..." and was promptly stifled by Alfred's hand over his mouth. Silently, Alfred gestured for Dick to follow him back to the control room.

Before the control panel, Alfred flicked a switch, then at at the computer, pulling up screens and hitting keys. He finally started the machine up and turned to Dick, whispering in his ear. "Master Bruce has both listening devices and cameras installed in this area. I disabled the camera briefly and now all they'll see is your 'body' going into the machine. The banging sounds of the MRI should cover our conversation. Now, tell me what happened."

With a grin, Dick did just that. "So you see, it really was my fault. Thomas put the kryptonite into Bruce's lead lined safe. He's holding out on Ultraman." Dick's grin turned to a frown. "Now, where have you been?"

"Pennyworth locked me into a secure room in the South Wing. I think they plan to use me as a hostage," Alfred said. "Probably for your good behavior. That Pennyworth did just what I would have done. It's like playing chess with myself..."

Dick said, "Pennyworth has been dropping hints that your wellbeing depends on my cooperation."

Alfred nodded. "Pennyworth hasn't hinted to me, he told me outright. He doesn't trust you and will eliminate you at any sign of rebellion. He is fanatically devoted to his master and will defend him at any cost. Even murder."

"Funny you should say that," Dick said, leaning against the wall. His ribs were hurting. "Thomas gave me my instructions. At the Iceberg Lounge, if any of Penguin's goons try funny stuff, I'm to kill immediately and as messily as possible. He wants to send a message."

Alfred's eyes widened. "What will you do?"

Dick slumped into the chair next to him. "I don't know, Alfred. I just don't know." He covered his face with his hands. "I could use today's beating as an excuse to avoid this meeting but I'm afraid... I'm afraid they're going to make me kill somebody. If I don't kill, they'll hurt you! I can't let that happen!" He straightened up again. "I think you need to go. Now."

Alfred pulled the second chair over and sat next to Master Dick. "I can't leave you here; you'll have no allies at all. At the least, we both should leave, right away. Master Bruce has the safe-house network already set up..."

"No, Alfred," Dick said with a rueful smile. "I need to stay near Owlman. I have to know what he plans. If there's a chance to pit him against Ultraman, we can win the planet back. With the League dead...or gone... I'm all that's left."

"How can you avoid killing?" Alfred asked, eyes boring into those of his young companion. "That would truly destroy you."

"He can't make me kill, especially if you aren't being used as leverage. I'll be fine. I always am. Go ahead," Dick said. "Here's your chance. And if you run but I don't, it bolsters my position as Owlman's faithful sidekick. If you can, contact any heroes left out there and bring them up to date. I can't be the only one left. At least, I hope not," he said softly.

"Very well," Alfred said, rising. "Here is the camera control. This switch knocks out all the cameras in the batcave." He depressed them. "The machine will finish running in about forty minutes. I've already substituted in one of your old scans for this one. And, if it gets dangerous, lad, run! Run as far and as fast as you can. You are no good to Master Bruce or to me if Pennyworth slaughters you. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Dick said and reached out a hand. "Godspeed." Alfred and they shook firmly before Alfred slipped out of the room.

Dick waited the forty minutes, watching the MRI shut down and the pallet slide out. He removed the pillows and draped the blanket around himself, then reactivated the cameras. He reached for the intercom.

"Alfred? The scan is finished. Do you want to read it for me? Alf?" he said.

Pennyworth responded. "Alfred should be downstairs with you, Master Dick. "

Dick heaved a sigh and pushed the button again. "No, he wasn't here when the scan finished. I thought he'd gone back upstairs to you."

Five minutes later, Pennyworth met Dick in the medbay. Inexplicably, exhaustive searching by Pennyworth and Thomas didn't turn up any trace of Alfred Pennyworth in the confines of the Wayne Estate.

Pennyworth gave Dick Grayson a long, penetrating look when they all met together in Bruce Wayne, now Thomas Wayne's study, to compare notes. "I've been looking at your MRI scans and find some swelling but no permanent damage to your neck and throat. Your ribs will be painful but are no further injured than they were. I would consider you fit for duty."

"Good," said Thomas. "And Dick, I commend your loyalty in staying here with us. I assume that Alfred felt that he had no purpose here, since Pennyworth ably fills Alfred's position here. He doubtlessly felt that you no longer needed him."

"Doubtless," Dick murmured.

"Well, we are expected at the Iceberg Lounge shortly. We'll take what you formerly called the 'Batmobile'. Since I've added some insignia changes, I suppose we'll call it the Owlmobile from here on in," Thomas said. "Go downstairs and suit up. I'll join you shortly."

After the door closed behind the new Talon, Pennyworth opened it a crack. "He's gone, sir."

"Good," Thomas said. "He didn't run when he had the chance, so we might be winning him over at last, but we need to nail this down. The boy must be blooded and sooner rather than later. No time to send him against Gordon. Pennyworth..."

"Yes sir," said his butler.

"Follow after us and don't let anybody see you. I'll create an opportunity. Make certain that Dick kills his man."


	11. Falling

CHAPTER 11

WATCHTOWER

HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND

Unhappily, Batgirl began to play the recording of Dick Grayson's interrogation at the hands of the Crime Syndicate.

Superwoman stood, licking her lips seductively, the Lasso of Submission wrapped firmly around Dick. Barbara hadn't noticed it before, but the golden lasso was trimmed with tiny barbs, like barbed wire. They had snagged in Dick's uniform and torn a myriad of tiny holes in both the fabric and in his skin.

"Answer my question!" Superwoman demanded, tugging hard at the lasso. The golden line glowed and constricted. Dick's face, already pale under its layer of blood and grime, took on a shade of gray as he fought the lasso.

"Could you explain the question?" he finally gasped out.

"I asked, who is your family? You know, your blood relations?" Superwoman demanded.

"There isn't any..anyone related to me by blood anymore," Dick stuttered. "My parents died when I was eight and I was an only child."

"Good boy, Dick!" Batman murmured. "Stay literal! Fight it!"

"Who are your friends?" Superwoman stepped over to the chair where he was bound. With a sharply nailed hand, she tilted Dick's chin up to look her in the eyes. "Everyone has friends. Start in Gotham."

_I have no friends in Gotham, _Dick grit his teeth and told himself over and over again._ I have adopted brothers: Jason and Tim and Damian, before he died. I have an adopted grandfather, Alfred and an adopted father, Bruce. I have no friends. I have an adopted family. I have an ex-girlfriend, Barbara and her father Gordon is the scary man who is the father of my ex-girlfriend who kept telling me to bring her home on time or he'd track me down and shoot me. I have no friends in Gotham. I have no friends in Gotham._

"I d-d-don't...nggggghhhh!" He writhed as the lasso tightened and glowed more brightly. "No friends in Gotham. I have no friends in Gotham!"

"Submit, Richard Grayson," Superwoman purred. "And the pain will go away. All right, you live in Chicago. Who are your friends there?"

With look of despair, despite himself, Dick began to name names. His roommates, his acquaintances, people he worked with. On Superwoman's prompting, he gave addresses, relatives, locations, spouses, children, every detail of their lives. Superwoman was left giggling in delight.

"Oh, Dickie, this is so good!" she whispered into his ear, running a nail down his cheek that left a long bleeding line. "Tell me more. Tell me...Who did you work with as Nightwing?"

"Batman, Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, Superman..."Dick's voice began droning as he listed virtually every member of the Justice League, the JLA Reserves, the Teen Titans and every other hero group Earth knew.

"Stop!" she said in annoyance. "What is Superman's real name?"

"Kal-El of the planet Krypton," he replied with a mental grin.

"No! I mean his real name! His Earth name! What is his Earth name?" she demanded in frustration, tugging at the lasso.

"Nggghhhhhhhhhh" Dick fought the lasso until he found himself talking. "Clark Kent," Dick replied, face falling.

"Awwww, now don't look as though someone just kicked your puppy," Superwoman said. "We need to know these things. Now, who does Superman love? Is he married? Who is she?"

"His wife is Lois Lane, reporter at the Daily Planet," Dick said. "He loves her."

"Does Lois Lane have any super-powers?" Superwoman asked.

"No. She's human and has no powers."

"Hmph. I can see that I have some advantages over her, then," Superwoman said. "Now, I want to know about Batman. How did you become Nightwing?"

"Br.._Batman_ was there the night my parents were murdered. H...he took me to the...took me in and trained me to be his partner. I was the first Robin and when I grew up I took the name Nightwing, after a Kryptonian legend," Dick said, clenching his hands. He'd avoided Bruce's name and the location of the Batcave. He hoped it was enough.

"Clark, he says that the name Nightwing comes from a Kryptonian legend. Why did you never tell me the story?" Superwoman called to her lover. Ultraman sauntered over and squeezed her to him with a brawny arm.

"Nightwing was some nobody who put on a mask and tried to bring down the government. Said that everyone should be equal under the law. He was caught and executed, his followers were tortured to death to break up the entire movement. Idiotic dreamers," Ultraman's eyes glinted red as his glance brushed across the prisoner. "Like this one. Lois, why don't you take a break and do some debriefing with me in my quarters?"

She pouted. "I just want to be useful. You said to find out about his friends and family. But he doesn't have any. He's a dud!" She stomped over to the chair and back-handed her prisoner across the face. He rolled with the blow, but her ring cut open the corner of his mouth. "Why don't we kill him first. You know how killing turns you on" she said. "And me too..." She looked up into her lover's face, smiling. "We could bring him along with us. Make him do things. The lasso will force him to submit..."

"Not worth it," Ultraman said. "Owlman has some special project for him later. He made me promise not to kill him or hurt him too much. We'll have plenty of fun, just by ourselves, Lois."

"All right," she said and unwrapped the lasso from her prisoner. "I'll see you later," she whispered to him over her shoulder as she and her lover strolled back towards his quarters.

Dick sat silently in his chair, the blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth.

The video ended.

Barbara sighed in relief and Batman stood a little less stiffly. "Is there more?" he asked.

"No, this is it. They pursued Dick's friends in Chicago, but nobody in Gotham. How did he fight that?"

Batman smiled a little. "Dick is smart. I'll bet that he beat it by defining Tim and Jason as his adoptive brothers. I'm either his adoptive father or mentor. You are an ex-girlfriend. He figured out the lasso's nature and beat it. I'm proud of him."

Barbara's eyes widened a bit. This was high praise from the Bat.

Batman turned briskly to the computer terminal. "Have you shut down all the Crime Syndicate access to our communications?"

"Yes, I have. We can contact any heroes on this planet now," Barbara began, then they both jumped at a beeping sound. They stared around at the walls, trying to identify its source, when Batman put a hand to his belt and withdrew a small cellphone.

"Yes?" he said, then turned the phone onto speaker. "Would you repeat that?"

"It's Clark," the voice said. "Diana is here with me. We're at the farm having dinner with Ma and Pa. Is it safe to fly the rest of the way in?"

"We've restored communications, Clark. This is an unsecured line. Call in on your regular communicator and we'll give you more detail," Batman said, grumbling a bit.

Batgirl hid a smile. Trust Superman to come up with a prosaic way to make contact with Batman during a crisis.

The screen overhead lit up and the face of Clark Kent appeared. "Hello, Batman and Batgirl. As you can see, we've arrived in Smallville Kansas. Now that the communications are up again, Diana is trying to contact the rest of the League, find out how many have made it back through the portal so far." He glanced to one side and held a brief conversation. "All right. Black Canary and Green Arrow are in transit. Martian Manhunter, Green Lantern and the Flash have just arrived, they're waiting for orders. Aquaman and Zatanna have remained behind to help with Cyborg, they will go directly to S.T.A.R. Labs when they come through, so they won't be available to fight." His face darkened. "I've seen the television broadcasts about Nightwing. Where is he? Is he alive? I'll make them sorry they ever saw him..."

Batman nodded in acknowledgment. "He's safe for the time being. Owlman apparently defended him from the rest and he's at Wayne Manor with him. We have retaken the Watchtower, although it has been flung out of orbit and set down, roughly, at Happy Harbor. Both facilities are operational. If you've noticed the odd sunlight, apparently Ultraman has changed the moon's orbit to darken the ambient light."

"Well, that's our first mission, then," Superman said. "Wonder Woman and I will put the moon back where it belongs."

"All right," Batman said. "We'll stay here and make contact with the rest of the league to deploy them against the remaining members of the Crime Syndicate once we track them down."

"All right, but stay in touch," Superman said. "And if Dick needs me, let me know. I'm looking forward to getting some payback on his behalf."

"You and me both, Clark," Batman said. "You and me both."

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY<p>

BATC...OWLCAVE

"All right, Chum," Owlman boomed. "Are you ready for your first appearance as Talon?"

Dick straightened up slowly. His ribs were hurting something fierce, but he had no intention of showing weakness to Owlman. Thomas was so weirdly like Bruce, Dick found it unsettling. For years, he had wished that Bruce were a more demonstrative parent. As a small child, his mother and father had hugged him and held him often. He'd felt very secure surrounded by their love and support. After their deaths, Bruce had tried, he really had, but as Dick grew older, Batman's first instinct became to critique poor performance. Praise became scarce, a hug, even scarcer. Dick figured that Bruce'd decided that his protégé had outgrown hugs. Trouble was, Bruce couldn't know how he craved Bruce's attention, his approval and yes, hugs.

And now, here was Bruce's twin offering both. And when he did, when Owlman showed concern, or approval, Dick felt like a starving man suddenly offered a feast. He didn't _know_ this version of Bruce. All he knew about Thomas was that he was a crime lord on his own Earth. This "Bruce" spoke of killing as a good thing. Dick had to keep reminding himself that he couldn't trust his knee-jerk reactions to Thomas or he'd betray everything Batman had stood for, if Batman was even still alive...

"Talon?" Owlman asked. "Are you all right? Sure you wouldn't rather sit this one out?"

Dick flashed him a quick grin and fastened his goggles. "No, I'm ready to go, Owlman. This is different for me and I'm a little nervous."

Owlman smiled back, his face lighting up. "You'll be fine, Talon. If you only knew how lonely it's been out there all alone. I've missed you...I mean, I've missed having a partner. So, shall we take the Owlmobile?"

"Okay, Owlman," Talon said and ran for his usual seat in the car. The car. One of Batman's newest vehicles had been quickly stripped of all its 'bat' decoration and 'owl' features substituted. It still looked like a batmobile to Dick, but he didn't say anything. All the weapons and gadgetry still remained, although..."Did you modify the gun turrets? Usually we would fire beanbag rounds."

"Oh yes," Owlman said, starting the car. "We're firing live bullets now. I did leave the knock-out case canisters in, though. Sometimes non-lethal crowd-control is called for."

"I've never seen a need for lethal force," Dick said shortly.

"I know that you disapprove of my methods," Owlman replied. "but I hope you can learn to bend a little. It's dangerous out there and I value my life, and yours, more than that of a two-bit thug."

"Everyone's life has value," Dick said.

"Batman told you that?" Owlman said.

"Batman told me that," Dick said. "And he was right."

"I understand that Batman's parents were murdered by a robber when he was a child. Wouldn't he argue that his parents' lives were worth more than their murderer's? Or your own parents? Wouldn't you rather that their killer, Tony Zucco was it? Died rather than your own family? If you'd had a gun on you the night they were killed, you would have killed Zucco first before he could kill your parents, wouldn't you?"

Dick remained silent, his emotions in a turmoil. Oh, he'd wanted Zucco dead more times than he could count, but Batman had impressed on him that killing wasn't the way.

"When I kill, I do it to prevent trouble later," Thomas said. "If I'd killed the Joker early on, my Dick Grayson would never have died. Pennyworth's appearance would be normal. Every time I look at Pennyworth, I know that his injury was my fault. I didn't prevent it by taking out that damned clown earlier."

Dick barked a short laugh, then explained at Thomas' questioning look. "You sounded just like Bruce for a moment. The Joker has killed and maimed hundreds over the years and I've heard say that many times. But he never murdered the Joker. He just caught him and let justice deal with him."

Owlman smiled. "Oh yes, I've heard about that. Jason Todd, was it? The second Robin? And Barbara Gordon, crippled. Still, Jason is alive somewhere now, thanks to the offices of Ra's al Ghul; Gordon restored to health through the magic of S.T.A.R. Labs?"

"You know about them?" Dick queried, aghast.

"It's in the databanks at the Watchtower. I know it all, although I doubt that Ultraman or any of my cohorts other than Grid have bothered to read it. I know that you cleared the bedrooms of personal effects, hoping I wouldn't search for them: Jason, Tim and Damian? Of course, Damian is dead, for now, until his grandfather gets a hold of his body."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "Do you know that he will?"

"I know nothing and don't care. You are the one I wanted, not any of your replacements in Bruce's heart and life."

"You aren't going to...hurt...any of them?" Dick hated asking that, but he had to know, from Owlman himself.

"Not if you don't want them hurt, Dick," Owlman said easily. "They're irrelevant to my plans and if they don't get in my way, I have no reason to notice them. I must say that I'm surprised Bruce found you so easy to replace. You were what? Sixteen when he rejected you and took on Jason?"

"Seventeen," Dick mumbled. "And he fired me, that's all. I was too busy with other projects to partner Batman regularly. He did the right thing."

"I doubt you felt that way when he adopted Jason, and not you. And even more so when Jason managed to get himself killed in a trap you would have seen coming a mile away. You are better than that."

"I'm not," Dick forced out between clenched teeth. "Each Robin brings different talents to the table. Jason has street-smarts. Tim is analytical, like Bruce. Damian is...was...a skilled fighter, trained from birth..."

"And you can beat them all," Owlman said. "Batman was a fool to let you go, or should I say, to make you go. If he was worried about your safety, the clear solution would have been more training for you and Batman's paying more attention to your personal welfare on scene. Face it. He threw you out!"

"He did not," Dick felt old emotions coming to the surface. Dammit, he'd worked through all that years ago! "He knew that I was growing up and I needed to strike out on my own. I wasn't a kid anymore and I had started to question some of his tactics. I had to become my own man." Dick paused and turned his face away, knuckling some moisture out of his eyes. "And he did adopt me. Later."

Owlman snorted. "Dick, I value family much more than Bruce ever did. That's why I recruited you as my Talon. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I will never throw you out, never replace you with someone I like better who never argues with me. You have always been the best candidate for Robin or Talon or whatever you choose to call the role. For all the drama of the loss of Bruce's parents, I don't think he valued family nearly as much as you think he did. I do. I lost my family young and have been trying to rebuild it ever since. Pennyworth is my family. _You_ are my family, whether you acknowledge it or not. And nothing," Owlman turned his head to meet Dick's gaze. "Nothing will ever change that."

The car drew to a stop in front of the Iceberg Lounge. "Here we are. Are you ready?"

Dick looked at the familiar building, knowing that they were walking into a trap. He grinned at the familiar excitement as the adrenalin began rushing through his system. "Yes."

* * *

><p>Author's Note-And don't forget-Reviewing is good karma!<p>

Don't make me have to beat up Nightwing again! I swear, I will!


	12. Fallen

CHAPTER 12

"Do you want me on the roof or to go in by the back?" Dick asked.

"You'll come inside with me, as a lieutenant should. Once we're established in Gotham, you'll be the primary face of our operation. They need to know you," Owlman said, stretching as he left the car. Dick noted that he was an inch or so taller than Bruce.

Owlman made as if to lead the way, but Dick stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "No, I go first, just in case."

Owlman smiled and nodded. Dick took the lead, opening the door and searching for snipers or bodies in hidden places. Finding none, he moved into the building. The club wouldn't open until night-fall and so it was relatively empty. Dick noted the easy path to the far end of the room, where several men were seated at the table. He chose instead a perimeter route, judging it safer to be less predictable. He gestured to Owlman and received an approving nod in return.

The club was dim, with half the house lights darkened. The walls sparkled with fake ice chunks. Several imitation icebergs dotted the floor. Knowing Penguin of old, Dick scanned the bergs looking for either attackers hidden behind or any hinges on the bergs themselves. Trust Penguin to hide his jailbirds inside a fake ice-berg. At last they reached a large rectangular table with a white cloth, positioned next to the far wall. Penguin himself sat with his back to the wall, with two other men seated at the table's head and foot. Bodyguards? Dick still hadn't seen anyone else, so he assumed so.

He drew to a stop a respectful two feet from the table. Owlman approached and addressed Penguin with Dick at his back.

"So, Mr. Cobblepot," he began. "I've heard about the Iceberg Lounge. It's a pleasure to finally see it. May I sit?"

Penguin, a short, tubby man in a tuxedo, sniffed his long nose. "By all means, by all means. Would you like a drink?"

Owlman shook his head with a smile. "No, thank you. But do feel free to have some yourself."

Penguin gestured to one of his bodyguards, who brought over a decanter and poured his boss two fingers of whiskey. "So, Owlman? I know that you're new in town and want to do business here in Gotham? You must understand that the local environment is very full, very impacted. If you want to join my organization, you'll have to make a business case for it and expect to pay certain...wak...wak...entrance fees." Cobblepot squinted at the two over the table and screwed a monocle into one eye.

Owlman's expression didn't change at all. "Oh, I didn't come here to join your organization. Rather I expect to take your application to join _mine_."

Penguin blinked, birdlike, at Owlman and then broke into loud, squawking laughter joined by his two henchmen. Owlman didn't react. Dick stayed alert, hearing several pairs of footsteps moving towards them. The ravens were circling. He quickly took stock of available cover and defensive positions in the room, his eyes moving over all objects in the room.

"You're crazy, Owlman, although I gotta say I like the getup and your codename. Tell ya what, I won't kill you this time if you leave quietly and get outta Gotham by tomorrow morning," the Penguin said. His two henchmen rose from their seats and moved around the table.

Owlman didn't move but Dick did. Putting both hands onto the tabletop, he pushed himself into a handstand and kicked each of the thugs, then did a flip to his feet. Standing on the table, he quickly took out both thugs with minimal fuss.

Penguin remained seated and watched his defenders go down. "I see that you have some talent here. Those moves look familiar. Scuttlebutt says that Batman is dead. That wouldn't be Richard Grayson there, would it?"

Owlman smiled. "So you 've seen our broadcast? Yes, I was fortunate in being able to persuade him to join my organization. Batman is dead and in the power vacuum he leaves behind I thought there might be some chance of profit here in Gotham."

Penguin scowled. "You thought wrong. This is _my_ town! Even more so if the Bat is finally gone! You can take the bird-boy and get the Hell out of my city. I've still got you outnumbered. Boys, get 'em!" he shouted and quickly dove under the table.

As Dick had half-expected, the top of the nearest iceberg cracked open and five thugs piled out. They headed towards him and Owlman at a run. Dick sensed Owlman squaring off at his right and grinned. He'd missed this. He hadn't had much opportunity for a good fight by Bruce's side lately and Owlman was the next best thing.

He caught Owlman's miniscule nod and charged at the baddies to his left while Owlman took the right. Joyfully, Dick danced, flew and punched his way through his share of the mob. They went down fast, as he had expected. Penguin never had hired good talent. Owlman, a grin on his face was clearly having as much fun as he was.

Owlman's moves were as smooth as any Bruce could produce. When the next twenty thugs came in from the kitchen, Talon and Owlman met in the middle of the ballroom among the remnants of destroyed tables. They exchanged grins, then began fighting back to back. Owlman seemed to anticipate Dick's moves as well as, no, better than Batman ever had. As an oiled machine, they took down the additional thugs and soon had them subdued and tied up in a corner to join the initial five plus two bodyguards.

Dick was finishing zip-tying the last two thugs when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye. Owlman dashed after a round figure scurrying out from under the table. Holding Penguin up by the scruff of the neck, Owlman studied him in amusement.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now," Owlman said while Penguin kicked and struggled.

"You won't kill me!" Penguin squawked. "You don't..."

"Don't kill?" Owlman queried. "I'm not Batman and I don't live by his rules. I have no interest in jailing you. As of this moment, I'm your boss. I own your business. Had you agreed before, I'd have been amenable to a 35% cut of your profits. Off the top, of course. But since you set your goons on us, I'll take 75% in reparations instead."

"Seventy five percent!" Penguin's eyes bugged out. "That's immoral! I have expenses!" A crafty look crossed his face. "Fifty percent, after expenses."

Owlman shook his head. "Seventy five percent, Cobblepot. Take it or I feed you to Talon." He glanced over at Dick, who bared his teeth in a tigerish smile at Cobblepot.

Penguin shuddered, feet still kicking in the air. "All right. Seventy five percent."

Owlman dropped him. "Talon will be back tomorrow to go over the books and make sure we get our first cut. Make sure you show him the real books, not the dummy set you keep for your henchmen. Good day," Owlman called over his shoulder. Talon followed him out to the car. They quietly seated themselves, but the instant the car doors shut, they exchanged looks. First Dick chuckled, then Thomas, then they both burst out laughing until they howled.

Dick brushed tears of laughter from his eyes. "How incredibly lame is that? Penguin's never been much of a fighter but those lousy henchmen. I've always thought that he must find them at henchmen-are-us..."

Thomas gave one more hearty laugh and collapsed back against the seat. "Oh, I've missed the challenge of starting a new territory, Dick. My Gotham was so quiet and cowed. Are they all this ridiculous?"

"You haven't seen Killer Moth or Crazy Quilt yet," Dick said, smirking. "But no, we do have some hard cases here. Two Face and the Joker spring to mind." He sobered. "Bane is out of the country, last I checked. The Syndicate opened Arkham, didn't it?"

Owlman started the car at the word "Joker". "I don't want you going near the Joker, Dick. The Joker I knew in my Gotham was...horrendous."

Dick glanced at Owlman's hand shaking on the gear shift. "He killed your Talon, didn't he? Pennyworth told me about it."

"Yes," Owlman said. "And it was my fault."

Dick heard echoes of Bruce and sighed at the resemblance. Neither Wayne could escape the burden of guilt, it seemed. "Joker's not gonna kill me. I've fought him before and survived. Trust me on this one, I know him."

"So did Talon. So did your brother Jason, for that matter," Owlman said. "Anyone can have an off day, miss a detail or just have a run of bad luck. Doing it around Joker could get you killed. I'd prefer it if you didn't give him a chance. You face Joker, you do it by my side. Okay?"

Batman would have just barked an order and gone silent, but Owlman was almost pleading. Dick was touched. "Okay, if I see him I won't engage unless you're with me."

There was a beep from the dashboard. Owlman touched his ear and smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, I've got to take this. Yes, Pennyworth?"

Through Owlman's private ear bud, Pennyworth's voice came softly. "I'm so sorry, sir, but I couldn't find the right shot. None of the men that Talon fought could have credibly died at his hands this afternoon..."

Owlman smiled and nodded at Dick. "Pennyworth," he mouthed silently. "That's fine, Pennyworth. If duck isn't available at the store, roast chicken will be just fine. We can have the duck a l'orange another night. You can try again later." Owlman disconnected the call and smiled at Dick. "Pennyworth worries too much. I'm sure that your own Alfred was the same. A shame that he decided to retire so unexpectedly. He was in Wayne service for so long, he deserved a dinner and pension at least."

Dick shifted uncomfortably. It was almost as hard to lie to Thomas as it had been to Bruce. "Well, he was set in his ways. I think he decided that, with the change of regime, there was no more need for him. You know, he left us once before." At Owlman's look of surprise, Dick went on. "Bruce was burning the candle at both ends, getting injured more and more often and finally got a major injury that crippled him. The entire time, Alfred had kept warning him, but Bruce wouldn't listen. Alfie finally told Bruce that he wouldn't stand by and watch him kill himself, so he up and quit. I still don't know how Bruce survived eating his own cooking!"

Thomas chuckled. "Well, I, at least can boil water. Alf..Pennyworth insisted that I be able to survive without his services should the need arise. I can grill steak and, if needed, fry bacon and eggs."

"That's more than Bruce ever managed without two fire extinguishers at his elbow," Dick said, relaxing back into his seat. Thomas was easy to talk to. He didn't even seem to mind anecdotes about his predecessor in Dick's life. 

* * *

><p>Back at the cave, Dick took a long shower and went over the mission. He hadn't killed anyone and neither had Owlman. Maybe he was worried for nothing. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being pulled into something, something that Batman wouldn't approve of. "I didn't kill anybody, Bruce," Dick whispered into the spray. "And I haven't done anything you'd be ashamed of." The silent "yet" remained unspoken. <p>

* * *

><p>While Dick showered, Thomas conferred privately with Pennyworth. "You missed an opportunity today, Alfred. We need to ensure his loyalty to us! Once he's made a kill, we can move him away from this bat-nonsense."<p>

Pennyworth's shoulders slumped and he appeared downcast. "I'm sorry, sir. I did try, but he moved so fast that I wasn't able to get an accurate bead on his opponent. May I try again tomorrow? Or should I continue to hunt Alfred?"

Thomas waved a hand dismissively. "No, if Alfred could run like that, he must not be very devoted to his masters. You can stop trying to trace him; that relationship won't distract Dick from the new one he's forming. However, looking over the databases, it seems that Dick has ties to Batgirl, aka Barbara Gordon, just like our own Richard Grayson. Locate and eliminate her. Dick and I will be going out on patrol tonight. I'll make sure that he is properly blooded."

"Yes, sir," Pennyworth said. "Do you still plan to remove Commissioner Gordon?"

"Eventually, but for the time being I want to focus on getting and maintaining Dick's loyalty. And Alfred, don't forget, chicken for dinner tonight. Not duck."

"Yes, sir." 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY<p>

11:00 P.M.

The night was warm with a crisp breeze in the air. Just the kind of night Dick had always loved for flying. He dove from building to building, swinging across vast spaces and shooting his grapple gun to the next cornice, never realizing in his heart that he followed Owlman and not Batman. The figure was shaped just like Bruce and Owlman's costume was so similar that Dick kept forgetting why they were out there.

Not patrolling. "No," Owlman had said. "I've gotten word that one of the gangs, run by this Two-Face person, is unloading a cargo of firearms for sale on the streets of Gotham. If there are any firearms, I will control their sale and get a profit from it."

Dick considered the mission and squelched down the guilt. Whatever happened, the guns wouldn't be on the streets. "When are we going to go after Ultraman?" he asked as he finished suiting up.

Thomas flashed him a smile before putting on the cowl. "Soon, Dick. We have to be ready and I want to be sure that I have allies first. Soon."

Dick had to be content with that. Now, as he flew through the streets of Gotham towards the waterfront, he began to wonder if Thomas was just stringing him along. How much criminal activity would he be dragged into before they could go after Ultraman? How dirty would he feel?

When he saw the army gathered at Pier 22, he stopped thinking entirely.

"Wow," he muttered into his communicator. "That's a big group, even for Two-Face."

"He doesn't normally have this much backup?" Thomas asked, moving into deeper shadows.

"No. He maxes out at ten henchmen normally. This must be something really big for...Oh man. He's here.." Dick crouched down behind a chimney. His own personal nightmare was there, down below. He'd thought that demon was exorcised, but the memory was still fresh. A young Robin, beaten almost to death by Two-Face, and Batman tied up, watching and unable to help.

"Is that him? Why is he called Two-Face?" Owlman asked as a dapperly dressed man stepped from a limousine onto the pavement, then gasped as the man turned and his ruined face caught the light.

"He got hit with acid during trial. Blamed Batman for not preventing it. The damage unhinged Harvey Dent and turned him into a master criminal," Dick said tautly.

Owlman glanced at Talon. His posture had tightened and his body was still. Was he...afraid? "Talon? What's wrong?"

"Old history, Owlman," Dick said. "Water under the bridge." He flashed a grin at Owlman. "What's the plan?"

Ten minutes later, Dick had lobbed explosives to draw off half of the gunmen. He and Owlman swooped down to take the remaining thugs. Dick was happily bashing heads when he unexpectedly found himself directly facing Two-Face. He hadn't faced the man without Batman at his side since he was thirteen years old. Now Talon faced the monster.

"So, you're the sidekick, huh?" Two-Face snarled, then waved away his henchmen. "I'll do this myself!" Then, to Dick, "Y'know, I hate sidekicks." He threw a punch and laughed when Dick dodged away. "Y'know why?" Two-Face advanced and began to throw punch after punch. "They're so damned irritating. You remind me of Batman's kid. Stand still! and let me...Hey!" Two-Face himself began dodging Talon's kicks and blows.

"You wouldn't have to bother with the sidekicks if you stopped selling illegal...guns! and...drugs! and...extorting businesses!" With each exclamation, Dick threw a punch. He knew that he should be pulling them a bit, but this...criminal...had caused so much damage and pain that he deserved...every...blow...that...Dick...could...deal!" Dick remembered being so young, taking the blows, powerless to defend himself against Two-Face and worst of all, Batman saw the whole thing! It still made him feel shame and anger when he remembered it. He punched harder. Now Batman was dead or might as well be and the whole...planet...was...ruled...by...criminals!

Two-Face was staggering back now, blood dripping from the good side of his face. Dick threw one more haymaker directly to Two-Face's chin. The criminal's head snapped back and he went down, making a satisfying thump as his head banged against the metal railing. Talon turned to face the remaining henchmen.

Those that weren't down, were running away. Owlman stood up, wiping the blood from his hands and, with his foot, pushed the bodies of three henchmen over the pier and into the water. "Cleaner that way, Talon," he said cheerfully. "And how about you? Any injuries?" He strode over, taking in Dick's condition in a glance, then knelt next to Owlman, running a gloved hand behind the man's neck. "And you got the Boss, huh? Good move. Cut off the head of the snake and the body dies."

"He's not dead," Dick said, shaking out his cramping hands. "I didn't hit him hard enough."

"Oh?" Owlman said and rose. "Well, you must have hit him harder than you thought because he's dead now."


	13. Into the Dark

CHAPTER 13

Superman and Wonder Woman streaked into the sky towards the dark orange moon. Once there, he saw how difficult the job would be. Wonder Woman gestured towards the far side of the planetoid and waved towards its original pathway. Superman nodded and fired himself towards the lunar surface, both hands outspread. He pushed as hard as he could and slowly felt the moon's vector change.

With Wonder Woman steadying and Superman pushing, he thought that this might work. It just might work! He pushed harder, ignoring Wonder Woman's sudden stop and waving hands. He had focused his entire attention on the job when he felt a powerful blow from the side, pushing him away from his grip on the moon.

He slowly arced away from the moon and got a good look at his attacker. It was like looking in a mirror. Another Superman, only this one's face was suffused with rage, eyes glowing red and teeth clenched, this man wore a different symbol on his chest; a giant "U". Batman had briefed him about the Crime Syndicate but Clark hadn't really believed it was possible that he had an identical twin somewhere out there. He frowned back at that blazing face. Not so identical after all. Ultraman's muscles showed a lack of definition from a lesser discipline than what kept Superman in shape. His skin was pasty and unhealthy-looking.

Superman allowed himself to be carried into the Earth's exosphere, the farthest reaches of Earth's atmosphere before pure vacuum. It wasn't much, but with his super hearing he could speak and be heard. "Who are you and what are you doing?" Superman demanded.

Ultraman roared back. "What are you trying to do? It took me half a day to get the moon into the right orbit!"

"Batman told me that you don't like direct light," Superman replied as Wonder Woman swung in next to the two. "Wonder Woman, meet Ultraman."

Diana's face grew cold. "I know about you and your partners. You've caused death and destruction all over the planet. If you won't stop, we'll make sure that you are stopped, for good!" She put her hand back to the lasso at her hip.

Ultraman's eyes widened a bit, taking her in. "You...you aren't Lois! Who are you? What are you!" His face took on a leering grin. "You fill out that uniform much better than my own Wonder Woman."

Diana's face moved into a frown, seeing his lustful glance. "No, I'm not Lois Lane, your paramour. I am an Amazon from the island of Themiscyra and not any man's toy. Keep your eyes and your thoughts to yourself, barbarian!" Grabbing her lasso, she swung it over her head, preparing to throw it.

Ultraman saw the glowing rope and darted past Wonder Woman, aiming back to the moon. Superman followed closely and soon the two were in battle. Wonder Woman flew back but the two were in a clinch and she couldn't rope Ultraman without affecting Superman as well. The two wrestled for dominance, landing heavy blows on each other. Neither pulled any punches and soon Superman sported a shiner on his left eye while Ultraman spat out perfect white teeth.

Seeing Wonder Woman beginning to approach him with lasso held in her hands, Ultraman glanced from one to the other and snarled, "Never!" He dove at top speed for the Earth, flying so fast that both heroes heard the sonic boom of his passing. Superman made to follow him down but Wonder Woman stopped him.

"No, Kal. We've got a bigger job to do. We can get him later," she gestured towards the moon. Superman clenched his fists but agreed and went back to his original mission.

Ultraman flew faster than he ever had. On his own Earth, he had reigned like a king. No, like a god! He'd never run for a fight, nor had it ever been necessary. He looked over his shoulder; Superman wasn't following. He ashamed but relieved. He didn't dare call in the others to help him until he was back up to strength. They would see his weakness and, like hungry sharks, they'd tear him apart. Under this brilliant sun, that wouldn't be possible...What he needed was kryptonite. But how could he find some? He hunkered down in an ice cave on Everest and began to plan. 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM DOCKS<p>

Dick blinked at Owlman's announcement, then was running forward towards the body. "Dead? He can't be! I didn't hit him that hard!" He threw himself down beside Two Face and, pulling off his glove, felt at the villain's neck.

The damaged skin of the man's throat was rough under his questing fingers but he felt nothing, no pulse. So he moved to the other side, digging into the man's skin, trying to find something, anything.

Eyes wide with terror, Dick took off the other glove and started doing CPR.

"Call...call 911," he gasped to Owlman. "Get ambulance here!"

Owlman knelt next to him and laid a warm hand on his shoulder. "Dick, I'm sorry, but the man is dead. He hit the fence pretty hard when you decked him. Didn't you hear his neck break? His breathing stopped at that moment. That was a good ten minutes ago. Even if you could bring him back, he'd be a vegetable and a waste of resources. And in any case, why should you want to save him? I read Batman's files and I know what this man did to you. You have no reason for mercy."

Dick kept working. " It's not for...him. 's for me! We DON'T kill! Not...ever! 'f I did, Batman would...would..I can't betray Batman like that. We DON'T kill! Never! Lemme go! Let me go!"

Two strong arms had grasped his arms from behind and forcibly lifted him away from the body. "Talon! Talon you can stop now. The ambulance is here. Stop, son!" Owlman repeated softly, his left arm wrapped around Dick's chest, holding him back. With the right, he pointed at the EMT's just getting out of an ambulance, followed by police cars. "It's time for us to leave," he said softly. "Come on, chum."

Dick allowed himself to be led away into the shadows and pushed back into the Owlmobile. Owlman seated himself and aimed the car back towards the cave at top speed while Dick turned on the police band radio. The chatter didn't help; Two Face was being transported to Gotham General. Owlman's face was stoic, neither angry nor upset at the killing. Not yet, at least.

Dick pulled his legs to his chin and sat like that until the car turned into the batcave. Neither of them spoke during the long drive, but Owlman checked on him periodically. His own Talon hadn't been this moody after a kill; he'd actually been quite cheerful. Must be a difference in upbringing, he told himself. He'd have to go easy on the boy for a while until he adjusted to his new reality. He shook his head. If Batman were here now, he'd have words with the man for making his young partner so very vulnerable in a dangerous world.

Dick was silent as he and Owlman climbed out of the car into the batcave. Stepping onto the stone floor, he took off the Talon cowl and threw it against the wall with a thump. Pennyworth's eyes narrowed. "I hope that the evening went well, sirs. I've prepared a small repast for you," gesturing to the table where sat sandwiches, hot cocoa and plate filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies: the Pennyworth recipe.

Dick began to smile at the familiar scent, then remembered what had happened that night. He knew that everything would taste like dust if he even tried to swallow it past the lump in his throat.

"Dick, calm down," Owlman said, removing his cowl and setting it on the table. "You shouldn't let yourself be so upset about Two Face. Batman's Code...well, it just wasn't logical. The world is a harsh place that rewards weakness with death. You were strong tonight and you defeated a dangerous enemy. You should be proud."

Dick just looked at Owlman silently, suddenly feeling the sheer alienness of this man. He was so like Bruce and yet so...not. "I just killed a man," Dick said hoarsely, fighting back tears. "I'm a murderer." He ran an arm over his eyes, trying to keep the tears from dripping off his cheeks.

"He had it coming," Owlman said. "And I wouldn't call it murder. He would certainly have killed you where you stood if you'd given him the chance!"

"I've be-betrayed Batman," Dick got out before sinking into one of the chairs surrounding the table.

Owlman sat next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You can't betray a dead man, Dick," he said reasonably. "And you didn't murder anyone. As I said, you were protecting yourself and, whether you intended to kill or not, you've taken an important step towards your future tonight."

"Wha...what do you mean?" Dick asked.

Owlman sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders. "As I said, we live in a violent world, a world constantly at war. To protect what is ours, to protect our family, Dick, it's necessary to kill sometimes. That means killing proactively, removing obstacles that may represent danger in the future as well as current dangers. Two Face deserved what he got. You, of all people, have no cause to show him any mercy. Tell me, when you were a boy, did he show any mercy towards you when he beat you with that baseball bat?" Owlman's hand remained on Dick's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "Batman was terrified for you, wasn't he? I know that he broke his bonds and splashed acid all over his hands in the process."

"I don't remember much," Dick said softly. "And yeah, he gave Two Face a pounding." Dick looked up. "But Batman didn't kill him!"

"No, he had to get you to a doctor and he probably thought better of it later on," Owlman said. "I know about Batman's creed, but I don't agree with it. How many people have died needlessly at Joker's hands? How many lives have you saved by removing this particular villain? His victims would only thank you for your action, Dick." Owlman shook Dick a little. "You've done nothing wrong, boy. I understand that you're upset, but if you can't eat anything, why don't you go upstairs and sleep. I imagine you're pretty tired out. You've had a very full couple of days. You'll feel better tomorrow."

Dick nodded and pushed himself up from the table. Both Owlman and butler watched him slowly climb up the stairs to the upper level. When he was sure that Dick had gone, Owlman leaned back in his chair and let out a breath. "That boy's scruples will be the death of me yet!"

"And yet, he's taken his first step, sir," Pennyworth reminded him. "How did you manage it?"

Owlman grinned and reached into a concealed pocket. His right hand came back with a darkly colored ring on one finger. The underside had a sharp needle projecting out. "Poison ring. When I knelt to check Two Face's vitals, I stabbed this into the back of his neck. Killed him instantly. I doubt the coroner will look too closely, given the blatant evidence of the man's having been beaten to death by Talon. And so the legend grows and the gangs of Gotham will know not to oppose Owlman and his partner, Talon."

Pennyworth smiled. "Very good, sir. But what about Talon? He seemed quite upset."

Owlman waved a hand. "Batman is gone and I am here. The first killing is always the hardest, as you know, Alfred. I couldn't kill my parents and you helped me with that. Killing my younger brother was hard, but once I realized that he was a traitor I was able to do it." He smiled. "And, old friend, it hasn't been a problem since. Dick will come around to our way of thinking. Just give it time. Now, I think I'll head upstairs to bed." He picked up his mug and the plate of cookies. "And Alfred, these cookies are wonderful as usual. Thank you for making them for us!"

"My pleasure sir," the butler replied, watching his master leave.

Upstairs, Thomas sat in the study before the fire and meditated on the day. He had moved a step forward in his plan to rebuild his family and his life. Now that Dick had finally 'killed', he could be molded into the kind of Talon he needed. Pity that Batman had indoctrinated the boy so thoroughly, but he had no doubt that the conditioning could be broken. Both he and Pennyworth knew about drugs that could help the process along. The day would come when he and Dick would laugh about his former beliefs and their absurdity.

He looked up at the portrait of the Waynes hanging over the mantel. His own Martha and Thomas Wayne had never looked so good. His dearest Mommy had always been brittle and thin, her hands cold to the touch. Darling Daddy hadn't been much better. Unlike the athletically built Thomas Wayne in this portrait, his father had grown paunchy with middle age and high living. He remembered Father best as a man who sweated incontinently and always smelled too strongly of aftershave. With a grim smile, he held his mug up in a toast to the pair over the fireplace, "Thank you, Doctor and Missus Wayne, for keeping up the manor and filling Bruce's bank accounts for me." 

* * *

><p>DICK'S ROOM<p>

Dick stood in the shower long after the hot water ran out. He couldn't get clean, no matter how he scrubbed. He leaned against the tile, feeling the cold water running down his body and cursed himself. He'd studied all those years to be effective, but not murderous. And yet tonight it had all failed. Batman would be so ashamed of him. He'd always given Batman one hundred and ten percent of his effort, tried to measure up to Bruce's impossible standards. If Bruce knew what had happened last night...Dick could imagine it. He'd hunt Dick down like the criminal he was and turn him over to Gordon. And Dick agreed, he deserved it.

Dick turned off the water and grabbed a towel. He could turn himself in to Gotham P.D. Tell them about Owlman's schemes. But if he did, he'd be divulging Owlman's real identity as a Wayne and thereby Batman's real identity as Bruce Wayne. He'd be ruining Jason's and Tim's lives. He couldn't do that. He wished, fleetingly, that he really was a killer and could simply remove Thomas and Pennyworth. Just end this. End them. His eyes widened at how easily the thought came to him. He knew a dozen ways to kill...No. No. NO.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and sat on the bed._ I don't know what to do. I can't stay. If I stay, I'll kill again and become just like him. Bruce, you were right. It's a slippery slope and I'm already falling. I don't think Thomas has any intention of fighting Ultraman; he's just stalling for time until he trains up a new Talon. I can't...I don't know what to do, Bruce. What should I do?_

The tears had started up again but this time he let them fall. Nowhere to run. He was all alone in the world now, really alone. Bruce was dead, his parents were gone. He couldn't even run to Haley's Circus: Richard Grayson was known and Owlman would find him. He knew that to the depths of his soul. Owlman would hunt him down to the farthest corners of the earth. If Dick wouldn't be his new Talon, then Owlman would kill him as a traitor. Dick smiled caustically. Or Pennyworth would.

_I've got to go. I can't stay here and I'd rather die like a man than give up and be Owlman's Talon. When...If he kills me, I'll die as Dick Grayson, Batman's partner, not Thomas Wayne's tool._ Dick went to his closet and found his oldest and scruffiest pair of jeans, t-shirt, shoes and hoodie. His wallet was nearly empty but he stuffed the twenty into his pocket. The id and credit cards he left behind. Oh, and one other thing. Dick's face took on an expression of cold anger very like Bruce's own. _If Thomas won't bring the Syndicate down, I can sure try._

Dick opened the window and climbed out easily, making his way to the ground quickly and silently. He ran at a lope into the grounds surrounding Wayne Manor until he arrived at an old barn, once used as a garage for the batmobile. Pulling up a trap door, he went down a flight of stairs into a secret side entrance to the batcave. His code still activated the door lock and he was in. Another ten minute walk through a series of side tunnels brought him into the batcave proper.

It was lit, as it always was, but Pennyworth and Thomas had left it for the night. Dick found Bruce's safe, grateful that Bruce had ensured that his heir had all the necessary codes. Opening the door, he removed the small lead box. Opened, the ring with the green stone glowed brighter than emeralds. Good. Dick put the kryptonite into his pocket and left the batcave without a backward glance.

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	14. On the Run

CHAPTER 14

GOTHAM CITY

WAYNE MANOR

"Sir? Sir, you must wake up."

Thomas bleared his way back to consciousness, seeing Pennyworth standing over him in the early light of dawn. "Whaaaaa?" he said. "What's wrong?"

"The boy has escaped and taken the kryptonite with him," the butler said.

Thomas sat bolt upright in bed and took the slippers Pennyworth handed him. "Do you know this for sure, Alfred? Have you checked throughout the house for him?"

Pennyworth nodded glumly. "Yes sir. You will want to come downstairs to see for yourself."

Thomas trailed Alfred, first to Dick's bedroom. The window was wide open, the curtains blowing in the breeze. The bed hadn't been slept in and the Talon costume lay where Dick had thrown it. "He hasn't even taken his wallet," Thomas said, examining its contents. "He left his ID and credit cards. He's going off the grid."

He followed Alfred down to the cave. "Was the safe just like this?" he asked, pointing to the open door.

"Yes, sir," Pennyworth said. "Nothing else has been touched but the box is gone."

Thomas checked just to be sure. A stack of Batman's plans remained, as well as various weapons, but the small leaden box was gone. "Idiot boy! Doesn't he realize what he's done?" Thomas shouted in anger and frustration. "This was my only leverage against Ultraman!" He stood, deep in thought. "He plans to bring the war to Ultraman himself. Stupid, stupid boy! He'll get himself killed and I won't be able to protect him."

Thomas rushed to the computer array, calling up the close circuit camera recordings. He stopped when he found the right one. "Here he is. He left out his window and ran across the grounds..." He keyed up another. "Then climbed the wall..." He moved to an exterior shot. "...and caught a bus. Alfred, find the schedule for that bus, would you?"

Pennyworth, at a different station, said, "I have it here, sir. This is a cross-town bus that does have stops in front of various Wayne properties." He set up a chart, superimposing the bus route over a Gotham city map.

"Good. That gives me an idea of places to search," Thomas said.

"You are going to search for him?" Pennyworth asked blandly.

"Of course I am. He doesn't know what he's done. If Ultraman finds out he's got kryptonite on him, the entire Syndicate will descend on that boy and nothing I do will keep Clark from killing him this time. Slowly." Thomas glanced at Pennyworth, the butler's body language clearly telegraphing disapproval.

"You disagree?" Thomas asked.

"You know my opinion of this Richard Grayson, sir. I believe him to be a poor copy of the original we both knew and esteemed. Your...er...attachment to this one does you a disservice and weakens you unnecessarily in the eyes of your peers," Pennyworth said, eyes lowered.

"I've told you before, Alfred," Thomas said. "And I will repeat again. This boy is my family and I do not abandon family. I won't let anyone hurt him, Alfred, and that includes you!"

Pennyworth sighed. "Understood, sir." His voice was cut off by a buzzing sound. The phone. Pennyworth picked up the line.

"Wayne Manor...Yes, he is. Just a moment, please. It's for you, sir. Superwoman," Pennyworth said and handed him the phone.

"Lois," Thomas said into the phone. "You've picked a bad time to call."

"What's wrong, lover?" she purred. "That boy giving you trouble? Hand him over to me and I'll whip him into shape."

Thomas gave a harsh laugh. "I just wish I could. He's taken off and the kryptonite with him! I've got to find him. He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into."

"He has the kryptonite?" Lois demanded. "That's serious. Clark is running out of his own supply and is desperate for more. You'd better find it or there'll be hell to pay."

Thomas rubbed his eyes. "Clark doesn't know I have any. He was here and I told him that Batman's got it."

"If he believed you..." Lois insisted. "Look, some of the Leaguers have managed to find their way back. Ultraman had a battle with Superman and Wonder Woman last night and Superman won. Ultraman is holed up, but won't say where. I think he's afraid and you know how he gets..."

"I know," Thomas replied. "I'm going to find that boy if it kills me. Or him. Thanks for the tip, Lois."

"Any time, lover. Be safe!" Lois said and hung up.

"Get the car, Alfred," Thomas said. "We need to find Dick before he brings disaster down on himself and us." 

* * *

><p>MOUNT EVEREST<p>

ICE CAVE

Ultraman brooded. He watched the ridiculous humans in the distance, strung together on ropes trying to climb a mountain. What a stupid activity to pour resources and manpower into. And for what? To get to the top of a crag, take a photo and climb down again? His own Earth had made more sense. Humans were slaves who worked for their masters, corporate or governmental and ultimately, him.

His communicator buzzed, taking him from his reverie. "Yes?"

"Hey, Kal! It's me, Lois," a sexy voice purred.

Ultraman let himself relax. "Have you found anything?"

"Just like you thought, Owlman had the kryptonite but he doesn't anymore. Get this, the kid ran off and took the kryptonite with him! Just last night," she said. "Didn't I say that Nightwing was trouble? Kal?"

A low rumble echoed from Ultraman's barrel chest. His eyes glowed red and shot a beam like a laser at the tiny humans in the distance. Like a child burning ants with a magnifying glass, the humans crisped and fell where they stood or tumbled off the icy cliffs they climbed. "Where is Nightwing? Do you know?"

"No. Thomas is going to look for him, so I assume Grayson is somewhere in Gotham or nearby."

"That's close enough. I'll retrieve the kryptonite and kill Grayson. Unless you want me to save him as one of your toys?"

"He's pretty, but he's too dangerous to keep alive. Go ahead and kill him. You're right, it's time," she said. "Good luck. Let me know if I can help." 

* * *

><p>HAPPY HARBOR, RHODE ISLAND<p>

JLA HEADQUARTERS

Batman had finished deploying the JLA members who had escaped after the remnants of the Crime Syndicate. With the JLA conducting a worldwide search for the Syndicate, there was no doubt that they would be found sooner rather than later.

He decided that nothing was likely to happen and sought the bed in his quarters, formerly occupied by Owlman. Batgirl would monitor communications, but he was exhausted and needed rest. As he slept, he dreamed.

He saw Dick Grayson, face clouded with tears after watching his parents fall to their deaths. Now Dick was tugging at his cape, no, at Bruce Wayne's jacket.

"You didn't save me, Bruce. You promised you'd take care of me and protect me! But Zucco got me, instead!" Dick insisted.

Bruce ran a hand through Dick's tangled curls and bent down to look into his blue eyes. "No, Dick. I didn't break my promise. We got Zucco; YOU got Zucco and he's dead now. He had a heart attack and he's gone. He'll never hurt you again."

Dick shook his head. "What about the Owls, Bruce? You said they wanted me and they'd have taken me but you adopted me first. The Owls have got me and you're too busy fighting crime to rescue me." Suddenly his boy was much taller and wearing Nightwing's costume.

"Yeah, good job, _Dad. _Just how long did you let the Syndicate keep me and torture me for the entertainment of the viewing public? They ruined my _life _and now everybody knows who I am. And you can't even be bothered to rescue me from Owlman. What kind of parent are you, anyway?" Nightwing got up and began to poke at Batman's chest, centering each blow on the bat insignia there. "Maybe I should stay with Owlman, huh? At least he cares about what happens to me. Why you ever adopted me...Of course, you waited until I was a legal adult before you ever made a move. D'you know how long they beat me? Do you?" Nightwing pointed from bruise to bruise. "I didn't walk into a door, you know! Look at these tears in my uniform! You know Nomex/Kevlar doesn't tear that easily. Do you care? But you'll just tell me to 'man up' and take it. I'm tired of sacrificing myself for you and your mission! "

"But Dick, you've been my son since you were eight years old," Bruce tried to explain. "We didn't need the paperwork to prove the reality. You're my heir, you know that! And I taught you to be tough, to survive this life!"

Nightwing turned a tear-filled face towards him. "Bruce! Wake up!" Nightwing grabbed his arms and began to shake him. Bruce started to fight back, but the shaking continued. Slowly, he realized that he'd been asleep. Someone was shaking him.

"Bruce! You must wake up! Now! Wake up! Dick needs you!" Alfred repeated until Bruce held up a hand and stopped him.

"Alfred?" Bruce sat up in the bed. "Alfred! How did you find me?"

"Your personal comm has been inoperative so I called your cell phone. Miss Barbara answered and directed me to this location. Fortunately, I had left Gotham in any case and was on my way to Metropolis when I made the call."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Why have you left the Manor, Alfred? Dick! What's wrong with Dick? Is he all right?"

"I don't believe so, sir," Alfred said unhappily. "You haven't seen the news media this evening, then."

Bruce got out of bed and hastily pulled his uniform on. "Show me."

Alfred went over to the screen on the wall and brought up the Channel-52 news. The screen was repeating a scene from the Gotham Docks.

The anchor voiceover said, "And, I repeat, happening just this evening in Gotham City, Owlman and his new partner, Talon, fought it out with Two Face and his gang. As you can see here in the closed circuit footage, Talon goes after and murders the gangster. "

"It has been confirmed by the Gotham City Coroner that Harvey Dent, formerly District Attorney and later master criminal called Two Face, is dead at Talon's hand. Gotham P.D. has an all points bulletin out for Talon and a murder charge is anticipated when he's apprehended. Talon's true identity hasn't been confirmed, although many believe the he is Richard Grayson, formerly Robin and later Nightwing. "

"A Gypsy circus boy, raised in a carnival environment until the age of eight, he was adopted by Bruce Wayne when the boy's parents were murdered. Grayson has grown up in luxury, lacking for nothing. A college dropout, and later fired by the Bludhaven Police Department, Grayson has established no career and has conspicuously lived on his guardian's money for years. Instead, he has adopted a jet-setting, thrill-seeking lifestyle, made possible by Bruce Wayne's money. His secret vigilante persona, known first as Robin and later as Nightwing, was extensively broadcast worldwide after his capture by the Crime Syndicate. Could Grayson be another Patty Hearst? We have experts standing by to discuss this..."

The film showed a fight between Talon and Two Face, Two Face driven into a metal guard rail, falling limply to the pavement. Owlman laid a hand on the back of the man's neck and rose, shaking his head at Talon, then the two slipped into the shadows.

"My God," Batman's voice was barely audible. "Dick..." He stood, joints loose, back slumping, just watching the tape repeat and repeat and repeat, each time Dick killing Harvey Dent. "No. It's somebody else in the costume."

Alfred pursed his lips. "No sir. That is young master Dick you are seeing. Owlman made the boy his new Talon and Dick went along with it, hoping to ally with Owlman to bring the entire Syndicate down. He was afraid that he would be forced to this, to prove his loyalty to his new master," Alfred said, wiping an eye. "Dick made me leave him lest I be used as leverage against him. Since his capture, Owlman has been working on him constantly, coaxing and enticing him into loyalty to Owlman alone...If I hadn't seen this footage with my own eyes, I would never have believed it."

Batman straightened, eyes still on the screen. "We're going back to Gotham, Alfred. I...We...have to find out what's happened to him and help him somehow..." Batman's hands closed into fists when he continued, his voice rough. "And I'll deal with Owlman myself." 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM<p>

Dick hiked through the forested grounds surrounding Wayne Manor. He should have taken his motorcycle or one of the cars, he chastised himself, especially since...He held out one hand, feeling first one raindrop hit it, and then another. Definitely one of the cars! He pushed deeper into the underbrush, trying to find the wall surrounding the property. No, he reminded himself, a motorcycle is noisy and one of Bruce's cars could be tracked. He was safer alone.

In the pouring rain, he scaled the wall and landed with a thump on the other side. If he remembered right, there was a bus stop a block down. The local landowners had fought against putting something so déclassé as a bus stop along this part of their very upper-crust neighborhood. Dick smiled a little, ducking into the bus shelter. Bruce had put up his own fight in favor of the bus stop, pointing out that the servants of the wealthy landowners would find it a convenient and cheap way of getting to work as well as being more ecologically sound than driving into Gotham proper. The millionaires had been incensed at opening their exclusive neighborhood, but Bruce hadn't cared. Dick leaned back and pulled his knees to his chin, removing as much of himself from the rain as possible. He set his chin on his knees, closed his eyes and breathed. The last time he'd felt this alone was the night his parents died. Even when he and Bruce had been estranged, he'd always known in the bottom of his heart that Bruce would be there if he really needed him. But now, Thomas said that Bruce was dead, or as good as. The rest of the League was gone as well, so no turning to Superman. He didn't even dare turn to James Gordon; he'd endanger him just by being near the man. Jason and Tim...He'd been over it a dozen times. Nowhere to go, nobody to go to.

"Hey, mister! You wanna catch a bus or you gonna sleep all night?" A gruff voice shouted. Startled, Dick unwound himself and reached into his pocked for loose change.

"Yeah, sorry," he said, dropping some coins into the till. "I've been short on sleep lately."

"You and the rest of us," the driver said and closed the door with a snap. Dick found a seat easily, only two others occupied the bus, looking as ragged and tired as he was.

"Mind you, mister," the driver called back. "This bus is transportation, not someplace for you to sleep all night. You gotta get off when we hit the end of the line!" Dick started. People really did that? He supposed that a warm bus constantly circling the rainy city would be a pretty safe place to spend the night. He filed that away in case of need.

"Where is the end of the line?" Dick called back. "You go to downtown Gotham?"

"Yeah. We pass the Wayne Building and do turnaround at the Old Clock Tower."

Dick nodded. That worked for him. "Okay, I want downtown. I'm off at the Wayne Building."

"Sure thing," the driver said and promptly forgot him.

It was a long and leisurely ride to the end of the line. Dick's head nodded and he dropped into a light doze. He hadn't really slept when he was a prisoner of the Crime Syndicate, and hadn't rested much better with Thomas. He was worn out, tired, defeated, and his ribs hurt as well as a dozen other smaller injuries inflicted on him in the last week. He needed some place to hole up and make plans, some place that wouldn't show up in JLA files.

"Okay, Wayne Building!" the driver called and Dick jerked away for the second time that evening. Rubbing his eyes, he left the bus and watched it travel away into the downpour. Wistfully, he remembered days past when he could just go into the building, identify himself and receive anything he asked for: money, help, transportation, reservations a top-flight hotels. He sighed and pulled up the hood on his jacket, shuffling away into the rain.

Shoulders hunched, Dick made his way to Bruce's emergency drop. It wasn't a safe-house exactly, more like a safe-broom closet, he reflected. It was the last ditch place available to any member of the family, for use only during times of direst emergency when all the other safe houses or refuges had been compromised. Squinting up at the sky, Dick guessed that this qualified. The tiny place offered food, clothing, a shower and a small cot as well as money and disguises. Never intended to be used, Alfred had stocked it only with the basics.

Ducking into an alleyway, Dick found the metal door tucked in between two dumpsters. Although the door had a keyhole, that wasn't how you got in. He rubbed his hands together, trying to dry them, then pulled at the brickwork surrounding the door frame. Part of it peeled away, leaving a faceplate. He leaned in, allowing the sensor to take a retina scan. The door hummed to itself and quietly unlatched. Dick pulled on the handle and let himself in.

The florescent lights came on as went inside, standing in a puddle to survey the contents. Damn, the place was smaller than he remembered. He pulled his clothes off and hung them on a hook attached to the door. It was cold in here, too! Blowing on his hands, he pulled open one of the metal lockers lining the wall. Towels. Great. He wrapped it around himself and rummaged for clothing. Good thing he, Tim and Jay were almost the same sizes. His eye paused briefly at some Damian-sized clothing, before he found a stack of jeans, t-shirts and sweat suits. The next locker over had uniforms; Dick closed the door tightly on that one. He didn't think he'd be wearing that one again. Underwear, socks, shoes and toiletries in the next one. Good.

He carried his bundle to the small doorway on the opposite wall. It led to a tiny bathroom with a toilet and shower. He put his belongings on top of the tank and ran a hot shower for himself.

He felt dirty. Trite as it seemed, it wasn't the grime of the past 24 hours that afflicted him, it was a grunge that nothing could wash away. He had killed. He had disobeyed Bruce's most cherished precepts and murdered someone. He had had no love for Two Face. Just the memory of the man's gargoyle face towering over him still fed his nightmares. Bruce had been uncommonly gentle with him after the attack and for years thereafter had unsuccessfully tried to make him sit out Harvey Dent related cases. Dick knew that you had to get back onto the horse that had thrown you, so he'd tried. And tried. But still the man haunted his dreams. It had faded over the years, but he'd never forgotten and he knew that Dent hadn't either.

Maybe unconsciously he'd hit him extra hard because he really wanted the man dead. Usually he fought Two Face in Batman's company. Now, yesterday, Batman's reassuring presence had been absent and there was nobody to stop him. That was probably it. That old hatred and fear, simmering under the surface and it had subconsciously taken over. Dick had hit the man too hard and Dent's life was over. So easy to slip over the edge; Bruce had warned him.

Suddenly, he was grateful that Bruce would never find out about this. Bruce was dead, gone, and would never know what his son had become. He'd be so ashamed of him if he knew.

Dick leaned both hands against the wall of the tiny shower and let himself cry.

Later, dried and dressed, he went back into the main room. It was time to plan. He went to the corner and pulled up a linoleum tile, exposing the safe buried in the floor. He placed his hand on the surface, then entered his personal code when the machine recognized him. The safe slid open, exposing the contents. Dick sat back on his heels with surprise and chagrin. It was empty. There should have been thousands of dollars there! Enough to easily get him out of Gotham and support him for at least a year! He put a hand in and came back with two small pieces of paper. The first was an IOU in Tim's handwriting:

IOU $50,000. Team going underground to build Resistance against Syndicate. Comms are down. Burner phone number 201-555-1285. Will watch for chance to rescue Dick, if he's still alive.

The next paper was written in a big scrawl that Dick recognized as Jason's:

Took $100,000 to buy arms and armor for army I'm organizing to take Gotham back. Man, this is so screwed! Bruce isn't coming back to see this anyway and I'm filling out paperwork. This sucks! Red Hood

Dick put the papers back and closed the safe. Well, at least Tim had thought about him. Now for the other thing: disguise. Munching on a protein bar from the food stash, he opened another locker. The disguises had been rifled through as well. The hair dye was gone, leaving only hair bleach, but nothing to tone it with. If Dick used it, he'd end up blond.

Still holding the bottle in his hand, he slumped down onto the cot. Tim and the team clearly had been on the run and had used all the disguises and hair color. He couldn't have foreseen that Dick might need some disguising.

Okay, he could still work with this. He had blue eyes and pale skin. If he went pale blond, he'd look strange but definitely not like Dick Grayson. He'd also have to shave regularly or a five o'clock shadow would give him away for sure. He smiled ironically. And buy some brown hair toner as soon as he got away from Gotham. Blonds might have more fun, but he didn't think he was going to enjoy this disguise much.

Still grumbling a bit at Tim, Dick got all the supplies together and started making the necessary changes. 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY<p>

WAYNE MANOR

Dusk

A large helicopter landed in a field on the outskirts of the Wayne Manor property. Unstrapping himself from the machine, a large man in leather armor, wearing a long black cape opened the door and stalked out into the darkness.

He had a bone to pick with Owlman and Batman planned on finding his boy, one way or another.


	15. Two Fathers

Author's Note: In honor of the final chapter of Forever Evil, here is the next chapter of mine. You tell me which is best :)

CHAPTER 15

Thomas returned, exhausted and worried, that evening. Pennyworth was waiting for him in the cave with a cup of coffee and a plate of sandwiches.

"No luck, sir?" he asked.

"None, so far. It's as though he'd dropped off the face of the planet," Thomas said, throwing himself down into the club chair. He helped himself to coffee and sipped it with a frown. "I know that Bruce taught him skills, I just hadn't banked on how good that boy really is. I hope he's all right."

"You seem quite upset, sir," Pennyworth said. "You barely know this boy. You've only just met him. "

"I know it seems odd to you, Alfred," Thomas said. "And yes, he's not our Talon, our own Dick Grayson. But he is so very like him. And now it's worse, this boy has run from me too."

Alfred sighed. "I told you not to tell Talon that you were the one who arranged his family's murder, or that you had a hand in our Barbara Gordon's death." He poured more coffee and slid the sandwich plate closer to Thomas. "I understand that you were...jealous...of Talon's attachments to other people."

"My jealousy got him killed," Thomas said bleakly, staring into his cup. "When I told him the truth, he was so upset that he ran. And he ran right into the Joker." He set the cup down. "And now Dick is on the run and I can't protect him. If Ultraman finds out..."

"Finds out what? When were you going to tell me about the kryptonite, Thomas?" A familiar voice rang from the dark end of the cave. Ultraman strode into the light. "I had counted you one of my most loyal allies."

"As I am," Thomas dabbed at his lips with a napkin and stood. "I had my reasons for keeping quiet about the kryptonite. For one thing, you had just beaten my Talon; I had concerns about his welfare."

"An obsession with your Talon is closer to the truth," Ultraman said with a smile that was more than half a sneer. "You know there was talk about you and your old one, before he managed to get himself killed."

Thomas flushed. "Talon is like a brother to me, or a son, and you know it! He was family. Just what is it you want with me, Clark? Come to drum up old gossip?"

"What I always wanted, the kryptonite. He's stolen it, hasn't he? And left you in the lurch." Ultraman approached even closer. "If you can't turn the kryptonite over to me, then I'll just have to go after it myself." His eyes sparkled. "If I find your new Talon first, I make no promises about his condition when you find him."

"You promised me," Thomas began but was cut off by the slash of Ultraman's arm.

"That was before, when Nightwing was in chains and under control. You were going to turn him into an ally, an asset, and we both know how that turned out. Find that kryptonite or he dies if I find it first!" Ultraman turned on his heel and stalked out of the cave, leaving Thomas silent behind. 

* * *

><p>SOMEWHERE IN GOTHAM<p>

Dick surveyed his handiwork and shuddered a bit. But he looked different, yes. He'd cut his hair after he'd bleached it. It now stood up in pale tufts from his head while his dark eyebrows stood in sharp contrast. He'd put away his own clothing and taken instead one of Jason's shirts, an acid green t-shirt with a black logo for a local rock band. An imitation tattoo ran down one arm, with another encircling the opposite wrist.

Sort of a Guy Fieri look, he supposed. Bruce had taken him to one of the celebrity chef's appearances and the guy's hair was so pale a blond it was white. Yeah, it was the same white blond, but edgier. He turned his head. Or maybe Spike from Buffy. Yeah, he'd rather look like Spike.

He rubbed the heel of one hand against an eye. He'd better get some rest while he still had shelter, before he hit the streets. Without any money, he'd be living by his wits. He had to get out of Gotham, fast, but he was tired and didn't trust his reflexes without some sleep first. He shut off the light and lay down on the cot, willing his eyes to close. 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM<p>

DUSK

The sun had set and Owlman took to the streets, searching, looking. Alfred was patrolling below and, since it was Gotham, he was armed. Owlman's first stop was Commissioner Gordon's home. He pounded on the door authoritatively.

He heard footsteps and breathing on the other side of the door. "Who is it?" came a voice.

"Open up!" Owlman called.

A laugh. "I don't open the door to anyone in costume. The last time I did my daughter got shot. You would be Owlman, wouldn't you? The latest crime lord to hit town."

"I'm not here to hurt you or anyone. I'm looking for Richard Grayson," Owlman said, aware that his voice sounded anxious. "I want to make sure that he's...all right."

The door unlatched and a man with fading red mustache and hair peered out at him through aviator glasses. "Dick Grayson is the prisoner of the Syndicate. And he's your partner now, isn't he?" Gordon eyed him closely. "He murdered a man, they say."

"There's too much to explain." Owlman said. "I pushed him too hard and he ran. There are those who want to kill him; he needs protection. Have you seen him?"

In his long experience as a Gotham cop, Gordon had often dealt with the "capes" as they were called. He'd gotten good at reading voices and this one honestly seemed worried for Dick's welfare. Odd.

"Dick hasn't been here, and that's a good thing. His relationship with me and my daughter is well-known. I hope he's miles away by now," Gordon said and began to close the door but Owlman stopped him.

"Please." Owlman thrust a business card at Gordon. "Please, if he contacts you call me at this number. Night or day, I'll pick up. Tell him that Ultraman knows...Tell him ...Just tell him to come home."

Owlman took off into the night, leaving Gordon speechless, turning the bit of pasteboard over and over in his hands.

Owlman and Alfred each covered every known associate of Dick Grayson or Nightwing. Tim Drake's apartment was empty and looked like it had been tossed. Jason Todd's penthouse was so clean that it was sterile, clearly not inhabited for a very long time. Barbara Gordon's roommate said that she had moved out months ago and no, there was no forwarding address.

Finally, Owlman sent Alfred home and perched on top of one of the richly ornamented skyscrapers Gotham was known for. He needed to think. Dick was smart enough to avoid known haunts. Then where would he go? He hadn't left Gotham yet, Owlman was certain of that. "He's well-trained. He's too smart to hide somewhere obvious; Batman taught him well."

"I'm glad you think so," Batman dropped and landed next to him. "I took Dick in when he was eight years old and he's always been my best student."

Owlman rose to his feet. "Batman," he said. "I am..."

The Dark Knight rushed him and gripped him by the throat. "Thomas Wayne, also known as Owlman," he growled. "I know about you. What have you done to Dick Grayson?"

"I saved him," Owlman rasped. "The Syndicate wanted to murder him. I adopted him instead. He's my son, now, Bruce."

At the sound of his name, Batman dropped him. "He isn't your son and he never will be. What did you do to him? Hypnosis? Drugs? How did you make him kill?"

Thomas blinked, then chuckled. From a chuckle, he rolled into a laugh. Batman backed a little, nonplussed when Thomas, still chuckling, said, "And _that_ is what you're worried about? The elimination of some two-bit crime lord at the very competent hands of your erstwhile partner?" Thomas caught sight of Batman's expression. "Oh, Bruce, my little brother. My own Bruce Wayne was always just as priggish as you are. I can see that it was a good thing I killed him young or he would have grown up to become you!" Thomas lowered his voice into a low hiss, maneuvering away from the ledge. "I didn't force Dick to attack Two-Face and I didn't make him hit the man too hard. That was all the boy's choice. I'm just glad that he's blooded at last! It's good to know that the boy has some spunk in him after all and you didn't ruin him entirely! Hopefully I can get to him before Ultraman does!"

Batman, about to attack, bit down his temper and lowered himself into a defensive crouch. "Ultraman? What does he have to do with this?"

"Ultraman has wanted to kill Dick Grayson from the moment we captured him. It was only my protection that kept him alive, if not unbruised. And now, the idiot boy has done something guaranteed to get himself killed." Owlman began circling. "You had a piece of kryptonite in the batcave."

Batman followed Owlman's movements. "Yes."

"Unlike your Superman, kryptonite doesn't hurt Ultraman; it feeds him. Ultraman's powers are faltering and with it. When Dick ran, he took the kryptonite with him, and Ultraman knows. He's on the hunt for Dick right now. He'll kill him unless I get to him first." Owlman moved first and found himself being tossed over Batman's shoulder onto the gravel rooftop. He scrambled to his feet, aiming a kick as Batman whirled around. It landed, bringing an "Oof!" and a lunge from Batman. Soon Owlman was on his back, Batman pinning him down.

With jaw tightly clenched, Batman spat at him, "If he's in danger, you put him there. Dick doesn't need your protection!"

Thomas threw Batman over his head. Batman landed on his feet and the two began circling again.

"You know, you've taken Dick for granted all these years. You've always assumed that he can handle anything you throw at him. I've read the files. You sent him to clear Blackgate Prison*. You sent him in alone, against over a hundred of the worst that Gotham has to offer! But now, he's on the run, pursued by Ultraman, for God's sake! This isn't the first time, either. We should be working together to find him! " Thomas snarled.

"He succeeded at Blackgate, as I expected. He wouldn't thank me for babying him; he'd think I didn't trust him with the hard jobs." Batman said "He's not a child anymore."

"He's not made of stone, either," Owlman said. "You know what he looked like when he came out again. My own Dick Grayson was like that and I thought that he would never leave my side. Or die."

"Dick is a good soldier," Batman said. "He isn't your Dick Grayson. I'll find him myself, once I'm done with you!" This time Batman rushed and, to his surprise, Thomas let himself be thrown.

Owlman bit down hard and rasped up at Batman, "My Dick Grayson is dead. He died while running from me, not knowing that a killer was gunning for him. I've read your files, your reports, your diaries, your journals, everything you've written about your Dick Grayson. I wanted to make sure that Nightwing was fit to be my Talon. From what I've seen, Nightwing worships you, little as you deserve it, and he's convinced that you think he doesn't measure up. He'd kill himself to impress you and if you don't change, he just might end up dead. Or worse. He's better off with me. At least I understand him." Owlman threw his opponent off and stood at a distance from Batman.

Batman glowered and said, "What would you have me do? If I swoop in and rescue him, then I don't trust him to save himself. Don't think I haven't agonized about the risks he takes. I'd hoped to remove him from this life when I took Robin from him." He said the last in a low mutter. "I fired him to save him." He threw a handful of batarangs at Owlman, who evaded them and responded with his own projectiles. Batman ducked, throwing more batarangs.

"After that, you promptly roped in another boy to be Robin, endangering someone else instead of Dick," Owlman panted, tossing small explosives at Batman. "I think you fired him because he spent too much time with the Titans and too little with you. You were jealous of all the friendships he made among the Titans. They called themselves a 'family', but it wasn't _your_ family was it? They took Dick away from you and you were jealous. Dick had grown away from you and you couldn't stand that. So you shoved him out into the world and punished him by adopting another son to take his place. I would never do that to anyone I cared about and certainly not Dick." Out of ammunition, Owlman and Batman glared at each other, the air fairly crackling with ire.

Batman's face was like iron. "How dare you? Jason wore the uniform with pride and died in it!"

"You let Jason out onto the street too soon. You skimped his training because you couldn't stand to be out there all alone. And Jason died for it. Jason died, so that Dick wouldn't." Owlman shot back.

"That's ridiculous!" Batman spat. "I loved Jason. He was my son and I grieved when he was killed. It had nothing to do with his training..."

"It had everything to do with his training! And his abilities! Dick is the best and you know it! Damn it, you're wasting your boy's life just like I wasted mine!" Owlman retorted. He dropped the last projectile he had planned to throw and held his arms out. "Don't you get it? Dick needs us both right now. We have to work together to save him." 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM<p>

MORNING

Dick woke up, grateful that he didn't have to sleep anymore. In dreams, he'd seen his parents fall a dozen times. Then he'd seen Superman, with Batman's body in his arms, breaking the news that Bruce was gone forever. He'd had to be Batman, then, and fight for the privilege of a job he didn't want. He'd had to be strong, an example for Damian, for Tim. He'd had to stand tall when all he'd wanted was Bruce to lean against. And now, what?

He was alone in a cold wind. Everyone knew that Dick Grayson had been Robin, was Nightwing. They knew his address. His friends. His enemies. In Bludhaven, Blockbuster had threatened to hurt everyone he loved, and he was just one man who had known his identity. Now, the Syndicate wanted to kill him; he'd run out on the one man who wanted to ally with him. He had nowhere to go.

Dick sat up on the cot. His watch read morning, so it was time to move on. He couldn't stay here; too many people knew about it. Tim and Jason wouldn't tell willingly, but they still knew, and that made it dangerous. Slowly, he pulled on Jason's leather jacket and picked up the backpack he'd stuffed with protein bars. They weren't much but they were food. He'd also put a folded blanket inside. It was time to go.


	16. Two Sons

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out. I got hit with a combination of Real Life and Writer's Block as well as the shock of the dual Nightwing #30's (the official and the one that didn't get published). That spawned two potential stories nagging at me in the background; one of which is a partially written chapter of Movie Night. It's been hell living in my head. Anyway, sorry this is a short chapter, but I'll try to speed it up. 

CHAPTER 16

GOTHAM

ROOFTOP OF WAYNE BUILDING

1:00 a.m.

Batman stared at Owlman in silence. Ever since Owlman had started talking, he'd felt a niggling feeling of familiarity. Either it was Owlman's voice or manner, but he could have sworn he'd met the man before, or someone like him. It irritated him.

"And why should I trust you? I've seen the news footage showing what you and your partners did to Nightwing. Surely you know that you have ended his life as he's known it since he was an eight year old." Batman's folded arms and dour glare left no doubt about his opinions.

Owlman matched him, stare for stare. "I wasn't the one who unmasked him. It's pretty clear that Superwoman has been playing both sides and I wouldn't trust her any farther than I could throw her. I'm not asking you to trust me; I'm asking you to use me. I know how each member of the Syndicate works, especially Ultraman. If you want Dick to survive this, you'll accept my help."

Batman stared at him for a long minute, slowly nodded his head, then strode towards the edge of the rooftop. He fired his grapple gun and threw back over his shoulder before taking off. "First, get out of my batcave!"

Owlman's lip quirked in a half-smile of amusement. "I think I can find my own quarters," walking to the edge, he said to Batman's back. "Now, to find my Talon."

* * *

><p>DICK GRAYSON<p>

5:00 a.m.

Dick looked up at the sky. It was still raining and the day was dark. Just as well. He walked the blocks back to the Wayne Building and made his way around to the loading dock. Fortunately, it was deserted right now. He moved over to the lock and punched in a code. Bruce had made sure that each of his Robins had an override code. He blew out a relieved breath when it worked; Bruce hadn't changed it after all these years. He swung the door open and took the stairs down to the basement levels. At one of the sub-basements he keyed in a different code at a small door, almost a hatch. It popped open, revealing another flight of stairs to a hidden sub-basement. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and took the stairs down to a huge room lit with overhead fluorescents.

Huge pieces of equipment took up most of the space: bat-cycles, aircraft, water craft, jet packs, all labeled with the symbol of the Bat. But those weren't what he was here for. He found the stacks of packing cases at the far end and began to remove boxes. And...yes!

Here were the parts for the bat-signals. Whenever the bat-signal was destroyed or wore out, Gordon and his men simply found a new one in its place, provided by Batman. Dick smiled. Or, rather, Robin would dig out the boxes, assemble the pieces, apply the bat decal install the new one while taking the pieces of the old one away. Bruce always had a good supply of replacements handy and each lamp was capable of producing over one billion candlepower of light. Put two or three of these together and he could give Ultraman a sunburn he'd never forget. Dick's smile turned into a fierce grin. Now, he just had to decide on a time and place.

If he planned to use the spotlights, he couldn't leave Gotham. Each one required a generator. Just moving them would be challenging. He'd have to mount them at the top of the Wayne Building and somehow lure Ultraman there. He thought that Commissioner would be happy to take custody of him, along with the bright lights that kept the villain under control. Once the most powerful of the Syndicate was brought down, the rest could be taken one at a time.

The lamps were the best and cheapest way to defeat Ultraman he knew about, so he needed to stay here and keep his head down. The easiest way would be to hide in plain sight until he'd decided how and when to spring the plan. He could do anything, really: wash dishes, tend bar, even short-order cook, thanks to Alfred's training.

He slipped out of the building. The sky had lightened but the rain had hung on. He put his hands into his pockets, crossing the street with head down against the rain.

Abruptly, he heard a sound overhead. He looked up in time to see Owlman flying low over the city, just above building height, looking carefully at the pedestrians.

"Damn!" Dick muttered and ran towards the overhang immediately ahead of him. He tucked himself into a doorway, making sure that he was fully in shadow before he started breathing again. Owlman turned off and began to head west. That was too close!

"So you really are a golden boy now, aren't you?" A familiar voice addressed him from somewhere above and a body dropped with a soft thud. Jason grinned at him maliciously and approached. "Nice threads, Dickie. So why are you wearing my clothes now?" His grin broadened. "And what's with the hair?"

"You and Tim only left the bleach after you took all the disguises and money from the drop," Dick said, aware that he sounded sullen but didn't care. "You didn't even leave me enough cash to buy some decent hair dye." He scanned the sky overhead.

"At the time, we thought you were dead, but I should have known better," Jason admitted. "I can guess why you're in disguise and hiding out here. I hear you're Owlman's new Talon," Jason said. "Y'know, most people have you flagged as a traitor." Jason gauged him speculatively and his eyes went hard. "The Syndicate hunted down all your friends in Chicago and went after your friends and family in Gotham. I had to abandon my apartment and at least two safe-houses, which I do not appreciate. Sounds like you spilled everything you ever knew about us. They broke you. Or else, you sold us all out."

Dick saw Jason's fists closing and unclosing but, unaccountably, his adopted brother hadn't thrown a punch yet.

Dick's jaw tightened. "And you? What do you say, Jason?"

Jason eyed him speculatively, letting his temper cool. "No, not a traitor. Not Papa Bat's blue-eyed boy. Undercover, maybe, but that doesn't explain why Batman's hunting you."

"He's alive?" Dick's flash of joy was overwhelmed by shame. Did Bruce know about Two Face? "Have you spoken to him?"

"No. I've been busy," Jason said. "So, answer my question. How did the Syndicate know all about you? And us?"

Dick sighed, the weight of the past week suddenly overwhelming him. He caught himself on the brick wall behind him. Jason hadn't missed it, either, for a black gloved hand found his shoulder. "You all right?" Jay eyed him closely. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I had a protein bar for breakfast," Dick said.

"Uh huh," Jason said. "That crap is fine for stake-outs but you can't live on 'em. C'mon, I'll buy you a meal." He grabbed Dick's upper arm and propelled him down the sidewalk. "There's a diner on the next corner that does a good French Toast."

Dick considered fighting his way out of Jason's hold but decided not to. It would be...nice...to have an ally. Even if it was Jason, somehow he didn't feel quite as alone in the world as he had ten minutes before.

Twenty minutes later, Jason watched Dick clean his second plateful of pancakes. "It's not Alfred's cooking," Jason said. "But it's close."

"How come you never told me about this diner?" Dick burped gently and dabbed at his lips with the napkin.

"I dunno," Jason swirled the last of his coffee and downed it in a gulp. "Maybe I was too busy trying to kill you before."

"And now?" Dick asked.

"Depends. What happened?" Jason replied.

Dick sighed. "I got caught. Superwoman has a lasso, kind of like Wonder Woman's but it's called the Lasso of Submission. When she wrapped it around me...I _tried_, Jay, but I couldn't hold anything back." Dick looked away, ashamed to his soul. "I was able to keep back information about you and Tim and Bruce because you're family, but my friends in Chicago..." Dick forced his eyes back. "I killed them, Jay. I told Superwoman everything I knew about them. Everyone I ever knew there. Names, addresses, relatives, jobs..."

"So you cut yourself a deal with Owlman to get your ass away?" Jason said with venom and leaned back in the booth. "That doesn't sound much like you. You were always irritatingly cheerful and so perfect you could make me hurl, but you were never a coward, Goldie."

"I allied with Owlman to bring down Ultraman. At the time, it sounded like it could work," Dick held his coffee mug with both hands. "So I agreed to be his Talon. I left after it became clear that he wasn't going to oppose Ultraman."

"Uh huh," Jason said. "And you used the opportunity to off Harvey Dent. Good move. I saw you on the evening news. Must've felt good. He did quite a number on you when you were Robin. Not as bad as Joker got me, but close enough. "

"I didn't intend to kill Two Face," Dick said miserably.

"Well, he's just as dead. You hiding from Bruce?" Jason said. "I'd expect you to have turned yourself in by now."

"I'll turn myself in," Dick replied. "Just as soon as I've brought down Ultraman. But I could use some help."

Jason grinned. "I'm in."

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY<p>

Batcave

Alfred worked briskly, erasing all traces of the trespassers, while Batman searched for any listening devices that might have been left behind. He removed what he believed to be the last one and crushed it beneath his foot.

"The last one, sir?" Alfred asked, tucking the feather duster beneath an arm.

"I think so. Next, I want to check the cameras, the secret ones," Batman said and seated himself at the computer terminal. "I need to know what happened to Dick while he was here."


	17. Jason

Author's note: I apologize for the long wait between chapters. I've been getting ready for bariatric surgery (currently set for 6/30) and my writing will be spotty for the immediate future. When I'm on leave, I'll write when I can.

And remember, feedback is gleefully solicited and totally appreciated!

CHAPTER 17

Jay paid the bill and Dick followed him outside. Dick glanced up and saw Owlman overhead again. He carefully stepped under the awning of the diner.

Jason looked overhead and made a strangely Damian-like "T-t!" sound, watching Owlman fixedly until he disappeared from sight. "He's really obsessed with you, isn't he?" He flashed a look at Dick, face growing serious. "You haven't left out anything about what they...he...did to you while you were a prisoner, have you?"

"Wait. What?" Dick said defensively. "What are you implying? That he...? That I...? Shit, no! Nothing like that. I'm as straight as you are!" Trembling with rage, Dick held tight to his emotions. Owlman's sudden affection had made him worry about that element in Owlman, but so far the villain hadn't offered anything other than a partnership and membership in a kind of family.

"I never said you weren't." he said, watching Dick closely. "Come on," he said. "Let's go to the Clubhouse. You and I need to talk and it isn't safe out here."

Dick followed Jason through several long blocks of Gotham, then halted when they got into an alley. Jason stopped at a weather-beaten door and pulled a key from his pocket to unlock it.

"I thought you said you'd lost a couple of safe-houses?" Dick said as Jason opened the door with a wrench.

"Only a couple. I've got a lot more and most of them Bruce doesn't know about," Jason said, shutting and locking the door behind them. He flicked a light switch and a large room was illuminated.

Jason took off his jacket and threw it onto a couch, then opened the refrigerator. "Want some beer?"

"No thanks," Dick said, slung Jason's jacket around a chair to finish drying. He supposed he'd have to give it back, now. "Nice place."

"I can't complain," Jason said. "All right. So, what's your plan?"

"Lure Ultraman to the top of Wayne tower and hit him with spotlights," Dick said.

"Spotlights?" Jason replied. "They hit you too hard or something? Ultraman is like Superman's counterpart. Light isn't gonna hurt him. And anyway, how are you planning to lure him in? Dance around on the rooftop waving your hands at him?"

Dick grinned. "Might work. But no, he'll be looking for me. I've got something he needs." He reached into his jeans' pocket and came back with a small lead box. "I have this. And he wants it. Bad." He opened the lid and the room filled with soft green light.

"Shit!" Jason said. "You've got the Boss's kryptonite! We could use it to hurt Ultraman all right. I can see why he wants it."

"We will use it, but not the way you think," Dick said and snapped the lid shut, tucking the box away. "He feeds on this stuff and he's exhausted Earth's supply. He'll do just about anything to get more. He should be getting weaker over time as he gets hungrier."

Jason gave Dick a long look. "Okay, so you draw him in. Then what? Have you suddenly developed super powers you haven't told anybody about?"

"Don't need to. I know his weakness. Superman feeds on light, right? Well, Ultraman is his opposite. To him, strong light is like kryptonite. Remember how the sunlight got dimmed by the moon? That was Ultraman. He hates light. I've seen it. We can bring him down if the light's bright enough."

"So, what spotlights…"Jason stopped and began to comprehend. "You're going to use Bruce's bat-signal stash?"

Dick's grin became broader. "Yep."

"How are you getting them all onto the roof? You renting a crane?" Jason leaned back in his chair and slung a leg over the chair arm, a sin that Alfred had chided him for often as a teen.

"Nope. I'm broke. You're renting the crane," Dick said, leaning forward. "And some uniforms for us to wear while we 'repair' the air conditioner on the roof. You're note said you took a hundred thou. I don't think you've spent it all on guns." Dick cast a glance at the wooden crates lining the walls.

"Kryptonite. Ultraman's weaknesses. You sure picked up a lot while the Syndicate had you," Jason sipped at his beer.

"Not the syndicate, exactly. Owlman told me," Dick said, looking uncomfortable. Jason raised an eyebrow.

"Owlman again. You positive he didn't brainwash you or something? He gave you a lot of valuable information without looking for some kind of payment."

"He didn't brainwash me, Jay," Dick said with exasperation. "He just told me a lot of stuff about Ultraman. The deal was that we were going to take him down together."

"Did Ultraman have any problem with you killing Two Face?"

Dick eyed him sharply at that, but Jason's face was impassive. "No," Dick admitted. "No problem. He wanted me to kill, so I'd get used to it."

"And you obliged him," Jason said, getting up. "Good move." He went over to the closet and removed a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt, then tossed them to Dick. "I want my t-shirt back and those are my favorite jeans. You can have these."

Dick caught them. "What? You don't loan your clothing?"

"You're getting blood all over my favorite band," Jason said.

Dick looked down to see a growing circle of red on the t-shirt. "Damn! One of the Syndicate broke my nose. I shouldn't have taken the splint off so soon."

"Here," Jason gave him a handful of gauze. "Yeah, I see you got makeup covering your black eyes. Any other injuries I should know about?"

Dick pulled the t-shirt over his head and handed it to Jason. "Sorry about the shirt, Jay." He quickly changed into the sweats and the new shirt, holding the gauze to his nose. "No more than usual. Couple of cracked ribs. I should probably lay low for a bit before I take on Ultraman."

"Yeah, you can stay here," Jason said carelessly, throwing the shirt into the sink and running cold water over it. "There's pain pills in the first aid kit; help yourself." He turned the water off and plucked his jacket off the couch and put it on.

"You going somewhere?" Dick asked.

"Yeah, I gotta see about a crane," Jason said, flashing him a grin. "Fridge is full and there's a big screen tv in the bedroom if you want it, second door on the right. See ya later." 

* * *

><p>GOTHAM CITY <p>

Ultraman circled the city, scanning its streets with his x-ray vision. He hadn't paid much attention to Nightwing when they had him, but he knew that he carried kryptonite, probably in a lead box.

He sharpened his gaze, looking for something small and leaden. He landed on top of one of the towers. Might as well fly a search grid over the city; it would take longer but would be more efficient.

He grimaced. The known kryptonite supply on this planet was exhausted and he didn't trust Owlman to work with him to create more. But until Superman was bested, the entire Syndicate was endangered. The Justice League had broken out of their prison and captured everyone but Superwoman and himself. He needed that kryptonite to take the hero down. He would turn over every rock in this miserable excuse for a city until he found what he sought. And Nightwing? He was a dead man. He just didn't know it yet. 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

"Thought I'd find you here," Jason said, walking up to Batman, who was hunched over a computer screen.

"Just where I told you I would be," Batman replied shortly.

"I found him," Jason said and dropped into a desk chair. "You were right. He's a mess. "

Batman sat upright and turned to face his second Robin. "Define 'mess'."

"Well, for one thing, he's agreed to stay at my place without so much as a suspicious look on his face," Jason said, shaking his head. "C'mon, Dickie and I have been on the outs way too often for him to just trust me like that."

Batman gave him a half-smile. "Don't sell Dick short, Jason. He was one of your strongest advocates while you were still out in the cold. How is he?" Bruce tapped on the keyboard and video began to play. "He had a tussle with Ultraman that almost killed him."

"Couple of black eyes, broken nose, ribs, pretty run down, mostly," Jason said, eyes glued to the screen. "Man! He's smart-talking _Ultraman_? Does he have a death wish?"

"That's what I'm wondering," Batman said. "When he thought that Blockbuster's death was his responsibility, he almost got himself killed twice in six months. Because of the information he disclosed, at least six people died in Chicago. And that was before he killed Two Face."

"Yeah, but he told me about the Lasso of Submission. He didn't have any choice but to tell," Jason said. "And Two Face...? Heck, Two Face deserved it!"

Batman just looked at him until Jason shifted in the chair.

"Okay, okay, we're not killers. I get that. He hasn't said much, just that he doesn't plan to come in until he's caught Ultraman. But his manner...he's different. He doesn't have that irritating grin all the time. It's like he's got something to prove." Jason paused, his face changing. "You could make this whole thing a lot easier by just _talking_ to him! Y'know, like normal people do? All Goldie has ever wanted is your approval; even I know that."

Batman shook his head and turned back to the computer screen. "Stay with him and try to keep him from killing himself or getting himself killed."

"That's the thing," Jason said. "He wants to use himself as bait and draw Ultraman in. Then he'll hit him with a bunch of bat-signals to subdue him. Even I know that's crazy! Dick can barely move right now. Ultraman will pulverize him."

"Stay with him and keep him away from both Owlman and Ultraman," Batman said.

"And you? What will you be doing?" Jason demanded.

"Keeping Owlman away from Dick."


	18. Family

CHAPTER 18

BATCAVE

"And just how are you going to keep Owlman away from Dick?" Jason demanded. "Since you ran him out of the batcave, nobody knows where his new lair is!"

"I'll find him," Batman said. "You just keep your eye on Dick. He's been through... a lot...and he's not thinking straight right now." He shook his head and fell silent for a moment. He resumed talking, his voice unexpectedly pleading. "Try to talk him out of taking on Ultraman himself."

"Yeah, being unmasked on national television and having your cover totally blown will do that to you. But why do I have to be his babysitter?" Jason said, frowning heavily. "Why not Tim?"

"Tim is working on something else and you're available. Besides, this is a matter of some delicacy. You've seen the seamier side of life, more than Tim has. I am having trouble understanding Owlman's obsession with Dick, but I'm not ruling out some kind of sexual attraction on Owlman's part."

"So, ya think I'll handle it better 'cause I was a kid on the streets?" Jason asked, falling back into the street accents he'd used as a child. "I already asked him and he says 'no'. Owlman has some weird idea of rebuilding his 'family' with Dick as the first member."

Batman leaned back in his chair. "Owlman's own Dick Grayson was recently murdered. Did Dick show any signs of wanting to take him up on his offer?"

Jason shook his head. "No. Dick decided that Owlman wasn't movin' fast enough and took off on his own to get Ultraman. He's feeling pretty...down...about killing Two Face, God only knows why." At Batman's icy look, "Yeah, yeah, I know. We don't kill. I've sworn off it. You know that, but you and I both know that Dickie still has nightmares about what Two Face did ta him as a kid."

Batman frowned harder. "Stress to him that he's welcome to come home, Jason. I don't think that killing Two Face was entirely his fault. I'm planning on retrieving the body for autopsy. Dick has always known precisely how much force to apply to prevent killing. For him to choose to kill now, or worse, to lose that fine control, means that there is something seriously wrong with him." He balled both hands into fists, then released them, leaving his hand resting open on the desk. "I can't approach him or he'll run into even deeper cover and I might never find him again." He looked up, meeting Jason's gaze. "You're my only chance at this, Jason. You have to make him understand that I don't hold him responsible for what happened. Can you do that for me?"

Jason sighed. "Yeah, I'll keep an eye on him and try to talk him back into the fold. God knows, he tried talking to me often enough, even when I was trying ta kill him." He turned to leave. "I just hope you remember that you have other sons."

From behind him, he heard Bruce's deep voice. "I never forget my sons, Jason. And I can't stand to lose any of you." 

* * *

><p>DICK GRAYSON<p>

Dick Grayson hid behind the clump of bushes and watched Jason go through the hidden entrance to the batcave. His hand clenched with a mix of rage and hurt. He'd _trusted_ Jason to keep his secrets! Jason had never willingly worked with Batman before, but now it looked like he was spying for him. Dick sighed and turned away as the rain started up again. It was a good thing he'd decided to follow Jay, just to be sure.

He plodded back to the gates of the estate and found the car he'd hotwired still parked outside. What to do now? If Jason knew about his plans for Ultraman, then Batman did too, now. Batman would arrest him and he'd be jailed, unable to do anything to atone for murdering Two Face. Worst of all would be the look of betrayal on Batm…no, Bruce's face when he took him down. Dick's arm clutched reflexively at his chest. With his ribs and the other injuries, there was no way he'd be able to fight his way free of a Batman determined to bring Gotham's newest murderer to justice. He had to stay low. Jason's apartment was a trap, but it wouldn't close until Jason got back so he had some time.

Dick turned down a side street and left the stolen car parked. Approaching Jay's apartment, he found no booby-traps, obvious or hidden. He opened the door and went inside. The first order of business was fresh clothing. He retrieved the kryptonite from Jason's old jeans and dressed in another set of Jay's clothing. He carefully removed the kryptonite into the pocket of his Levi's and began to search the apartment for money. He carefully stamped on the floor until he heard a hollow noise. Ah…Good. Jason had used some of Bruce's techniques for hiding things. Dick carefully found the board and pulled it up, finding a floor safe. He had it open in six minutes and soon had stuffed his pockets full of cash, leaving a generous supply for Jason. Below the sack of money were a variety of hand guns. Dick reached out to take one, then paused, his hand open over the safe. Slowly, he closed his fingers. No. No guns. He'd killed, yeah, but he wasn't going to become one of Batman's trigger-happy punks. He didn't have much honor left, but this much he would do.

He glanced at his watch. He'd been here 15 minutes. It was time to leave. Jason's jacket had dried, so Dick put it on again with a wry grin. "Don't worry, Jay," he said to any security cameras that might be watching. "I'll take good care of it."

He stepped outside and walked briskly down the alley to the street. He was going to have to start again, but he'd bring down Ultraman somehow. He had only made it a block when a dark figure landed in front of him.

"Dick," the deep voice said. "I've been wanting to see you. Why did you run away from me?" Owlman said.

Dick shifted his stance. "Whatever relationship you think we have, you're mistaken. I agreed to be your ally in taking down Ultraman. You weren't moving on it, so I decided to go it alone."

Owlman moved a step closer, arms out in welcome. "I want...need a partner, Dick. You know that you have no place beside Batman because you have killed. He is driven by a warped sense of justice and much as it pains him, he'll put you in prison and keep you there. You have a place, if you choose to take it, beside me. You have family, in Alfred and I. Come home, Dick."

Dick retreated a step. "You don't understand. I don't want any kind of...of... relationship with you. I can't be the person that you lost. I'm my own man. I am NOT your Dick Grayson and I refuse to be! Can't you get that through your head?"

Owlman's face fell, then he smiled sadly. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, Dick. This could have been so much easier if you were willing. I lost my family and I want it back." He looked somewhere behind Dick's left shoulder and nodded.

Just as Dick was realizing that he hadn't seen that creepy butler anywhere, he felt a sharp pain in his neck. The world was starting to spin as he pulled a small dart away and stared at it dumbly. The light began to fade as Pennyworth rushed over to him, supporting him with an arm.

"Now, sir, just let yourself go and we'll take good care of you," Pennyworth murmured.

Dick felt his body falling, his legs suddenly numb and unable to hold him. He tried to swing a punch at Owlman but couldn't control his arms either. Owlman reached out and caught him, while a tall thin figure rushed over from his side to steady him in Owlman's arms: Pennyworth!

"Wwww...wa...wah?" Dick tried to mouth but couldn't make any sense.

"A small dart, to make you more compliant," Owlman explained, tightening his grip. "You're coming home, Dick, at last." He smiled, his face lightening. "Don't worry, son. You won't remember any of this tomorrow."

"Naaaaa y'r s'nnn!" Dick tried to shout, but it came out all wrong. His voice was all garbled. When he tried to struggle, Owlman only gave a low chuckle and held him more tightly.

"Nice try, Dick. I've always appreciated your spirit," Owlman said softly into his ear. "Bruce has been wasting your talent all these years! I won't."

"Hey! Let him go, asswipe! He ain't your kid!"

Jason? At the familiar voice, Dick tried to swing around but lost his balance and fell, leaving Pennyworth to catch him. Owlman had dropped him and was rushing over to where Jason stood angrily on the pavement. _He's not even in body armor. Owlman will kill him!_ But no, Jason had pulled a handgun from somewhere and drew a bead on the center of Owlman's body armor.

"N-n-nooooo!" Dick managed to garble out before he was grabbed by Pennyworth and a hand clapped over his mouth. Jason's eyes briefly caught his and he shifted his aim towards a less lethal spot. Neither of them banked on Owlman's sheer speed and agility. Owlman flipped himself out of Jason's aim and attacked him from the side. Jason got two shots off, clipping the earpiece on Owlman's cowl, before Owlman was on top of him. Dick watched helplessly while the two fought. Jason was fast, but Owlman was strong and even faster. Dick gulped as he realized that Owlman could give Batman a run for his money; he hadn't seen speed like that since the last time he and Bruce had sparred.

Jay tried to put some distance between them, to defend himself, but it was useless. Owlman began playing with him like a predator torments a small bird, allowing him some distance and then dragging him back. Owlman pounded his opponent, first with one fist, then with both. Finally, Jason curled up into a ball, trying to protect himself as best he could. _He's gonna kill him!_

"Nooooo!" Dick garbled out, watching the blows fall harder and faster. Jay had stopped moving. Now Owlman began to kick him. "Noooooo! I'll go'wityou! Stahp! Pleeeeeeze...Staaahp!" Dick struggled in the butler's hold and succeeded in falling to the concrete, landing hard on his chin. Inches from his nose, he watched the runnels of blood trickling down the sidewalk, away from Jason and felt the warm spatter of it on his cheeks. His stomach tightened and the nausea clawed at him as his lunch fought its way to the surface. Not Jay. Not Jay. Not Little Wing...Not again!

Owlman gave Jason a final kick and moved over to where Dick Grayson heaving at his feet. He crouched, his bloody hands hanging down beside him. "Richard, I'm sorry. You must be having a reaction to the drug. Go ahead and let it out. You'll feel better soon," the man said solicitously, draping an arm around Dick's shoulders supporting him while he vomited.

Dick, emptied of even the memory of his last meal, met Owlman's eyes with a new hatred. The world swam even worse. "Yuuuu...din't have t'do that..."

Owlman patted him sympathetically. "But I did. That boy is Batman's agent and therefore my enemy. Yours, too. He's tried to kill you so many times, I'm surprised you care what happens to him."

Dick shook his head, then thought better of it. "Noooo...he's m'brother! Fam'ly!"

"Well, you know how I feel about family, Dick," Owlman replied, grabbing him under an armpit and hoisting him to his feet. A familiar noise, like metal hitting concrete echoed among the buildings, making Owlman look up sharply. Dick felt himself fading, no matter how much he tried to fight the drug. Before the world became dark, his hearing was the last thing to leave.

A voice, Owlman's, said something like, "Batma..!...Get...back...base! I'll carry him...meet...there..." Hands grabbed him and hoisted him over something...a shoulder? Whoever was carrying him broke into a sprint, the motion bringing back all of Dick's nausea. He'd have thrown up all over the man if he could, but he was empty now. Empty of nourishment, empty of feeling and of hope. The footsteps pounded harder, two sets now, and everything went away. 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

Batman sat quietly, listening to Jason's fading footsteps. His abiding worry over Dick ate at his gut. He pulled back his cowl and rubbed his eyes. Damn that boy! Dick knew, or should know, that he could come to Bruce with anything. Dick had watched his adoptive father try fruitlessly to make contact with Jason for years after the boy's mysterious resurrection. Even when they'd incarcerated Jason in Arkham for his own protection, Bruce had visited him faithfully. Dick had to know that he never gave up on his boys. What could Dick be thinking? Could he possibly believe that Batman would jail him without remorse?

Bruce sighed and rested his head in his hands. He remembered the small boy he'd taken in and, with Alfred, nursed through countless night terrors. Jay was right. Dick wasn't thinking straight or he'd be home now, letting Bruce help.

And Owlman. He was disturbing in more ways than one. He was so like Bruce himself and yet unlike. This obsession with Dick was frightening, and, in a twisted way, familiar. Bruce closed his eyes, remembering when a younger Dick Grayson put aside the Robin persona and became Nightwing. _I forced him out, so he could grow, _Bruce reminded himself. _It was the right thing to do._ But then, after Dick left, Bruce had missed him so very much. It became easier to deny all contact than to see the boy and feel the loss all over again when Dick returned to his own life. Owlman had told him some hard truths. He had brought Jason up to speed much too fast because it was so lonely without Dick there. He had wanted Dick back and life the way it used to be, with a young, daring partner by his side. But Jason wasn't Dick and never could be.

Even as an adult, Dick was still his chosen partner. In spite of the past, they worked together like a well-oiled machine. He could understand Owlman's loss and his determination to get his Talon back in any way he could. Thomas Wayne was like a distorted copy of Bruce; all of his strengths darkly twisted. That Bruce understood Thomas' obsession so well, was troubling in itself. Was he as fixated on Dick as Owlman was? No. He couldn't be. He had more people in his life than Owlman did. He had an entire family of trusted people: Alfred, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Gordon. He had friends, Clark, Diana, Barry, Ollie. He didn't have a league of criminals at his back, like Thomas Wayne did. And best of all, even when he pushed them away, they insisted on helping him. _And Dick most of all. Even when I was accused of murder and the evidence was damning, Dick insisted that I was innocent, alone of all of them._

Yes, he could understand Owlman's need for someone like Dick in his life and his bereavement that he'd lost his own Talon. _But this changes nothing. Dick is in danger. We have to bring him in!_

He raised his head at an insistent beeping sound coming from his control board. Someone had pressed an emergency signal button, calling for help. He called up a screen with identity and location of the sender. "Jason!" He ran for the batmobile, the emergency beacon continuing to call him.


	19. Mentors

Sorry about how short this chapter is, but I want to get back to consistently posting and this is where it fell out. And for you Jason fans, yes, I'm being cruel to him. I am also enjoying it like crazy! Hee hee!

Lastly, I see that lots of you are following this story and thank you! But I live and breathe for reviews! Please, please, send your notes to this lonely writer! I feel unwanted and unloved out here...

Chapter 19

Batman followed the emergency signal, using his GPS and breaking every speed limit Gotham had. He'd undoubtedly left a few auto accidents behind him, but he didn't care. His Robins had always had some kind of emergency signal, but Red Hood had never used his. He'd seen it as a sign of weakness to call on Batman for anything, much less rescue. It had to be bad if he'd hit the button.

He left the car parked blocks away and scaled the side of a tall building, working his way over to the target location. He saw Owlman fire a grapple gun and move away swiftly with a body slung over his shoulder, (Dick?) while that demonic butler fired up a car and zoomed away. He briefly considered going after Owlman before he saw Jason. _Oh, God,_ he breathed. _Not again. Please, not again._

He plummeted down to Jason's side and was taking Jason's pulse within seconds. He was alive but bruised and bloody. He'd been expertly beaten and was bleeding from a dozen places.

"Alfred?" he called into his communicator. "Bring the wagon. I've got Jason here and we might even need Leslie."

While he waited for Alfred, he swung up to the top of the nearest building, trying to get a bead on Owlman's travel but nothing showed up. Owlman and his butler had both disappeared without a trace. Seeing an 'ambulance' pull up next to Jason, Batman descended swiftly to meet with Alfred. It had been Alfred's idea to buy a used ambulance and fit it up with even better equipment than a real one. Having it meant that any one of them could be ferried to medical care at the cave or Leslie's without publicity or the possibility that the injured one would end up in a public hospital. The danger of being unmasked in an operating room still woke Bruce at night.

Alfred was kneeling beside Jason when Batman landed with a thump. "How is he?"

"Surprisingly well, given his appearance," Alfred said, pocketing his blood pressure monitor. "I think that we can attend to him in the cave. I can always call Leslie in for anything unexpected."

With Batman's help, Alfred lifted Jason onto a gurney and placed him in the ambulance.

"Will you meet us in the cave, sir?" Alfred asked.

"No. I want to look around here some more, but I'll be home soon. Let me know how he's doing once you've x-rayed him," Batman replied, one eye on the back of the ambulance.

"Rest assured, sir, you will not lose this one again. Or at least, not this time. So far as I can tell, he probably has a concussion, some blood loss and a beautiful set of bruises, but his vitals are surprisingly good. I will keep you informed of his progress," Alfred said.

"Thanks, Alfred. I'd appreciate that," Batman said and watched the ambulance leave, before scouring the scene for clues.

An hour later, he had pocketed Jason's gun. Two rounds missing, easily found embedded in nearby buildings. Batman shook his head. He'd told Jason about the folly of depending on firearms more times than he could count. Jason's footprint in the muddy gutter showed him approaching the fight scene when he should have been concealed. He could picture Jason challenging Owlman to fight in a burst of temper and outrage. Had he thought first, things might have ended differently. Finally, he stopped at the pool of blood that Jason had left behind and stared at it for a long time.

* * *

><p>12 Hours Later<p>

The first thing that Jason was aware of was a set of familiar smells: moisture, dirt and...bats? He struggled to open his eyes without much success and to sit up with even less. A firm hand was pressing down against his bare...bare? chest.

"Lie down, Master Jason. I am glad that you have decided to rejoin us but I need to complete stitching on yet another interesting scar on your body. Remain still, if you will, or it will hurt more than usual." He felt a slight sting and tug as the needle went through the skin on his chest. It didn't hurt much. Alfie must have given him something for the pain. He wondered who had hit him this time. Everything was fuzzy...He was in a fight...in Gotham...it was...

He sat bolt upright. "Dick! They've got Dick! Owwwwww!" His eyes were still puffy but now opened wide. He saw the needle dangling at the end of a length of thread and a very frustrated looking butler clad in medical gloves.

"I was about to finish, Master Jason. Hold still!" Alfred tsked and tied off his work neatly. "Now, I believe that Master Bruce wishes to talk to you." He called over his shoulder. "He's ready for you, sir!"

Batman came over and stood over Jason, on his medical bed. Jason tried to heave himself upright but thought better of it.

"Batman, they got Dick! They shot him with some kind of drug and were hauling him away when I got there," Jason said. "We gotta go after them!"

Batman scowled even more heavily at his second son, then his face softened. He drew in a long breath and put a hand on Jason's shoulder.

"Jason, you're hurt. You have a concussion and you're covered in bruises. You need to stay here and recover. I'll take care of Owlman." Then Batman mumbled something under his breath.

"What? I'm perfectly able to help you with this! And what is it you just said?" Jason demanded.

"Dick would kill me if he knew you were out there fighting in this condition," Batman pulled his cowl back and suddenly a very tired man was facing Jason. "Even for him. Jason, you were lucky out there today. Owlman chose not to kill you. He left you alive to send a message to me."

"What?"

"You have a concussion, two cracked ribs and a lot of bruising as well as a black eye, but no organ damage. Not so much as a kidney bruise. He deliberately avoided bruising any of your organs despite the very brutal beating he gave you. This is his warning to me. The next time, he'll kill you." Bruce smiled ruefully. "Looks like I do this alone."

"Ta Hell with that!" Jason said. "You need me. Like Dick's always sayin', somebody's gotta watch your back!"

"Not this time, Jason," Bruce said. "You'd only be a liability to me right now. As it is, you made mistakes that prevented you from saving Dick."

Jason dragged off the blanket covering him and struggled to sit up, pushing away Alfred's restraining hand away. Then he looked down at himself.

"Hey! Where's my pants? Dammit!" Glowering at the butler, he grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around his waist, struggling over to Bruce. He stood swaying in front of his mentor, eye to eye. "I didn't make any mistakes!"

Bruce sighed. "Mistake number one, you broke cover. You should have stayed hidden. You could have followed them to wherever they planned to keep Dick, then called in for reinforcements. Two." He held up two fingers. "You engaged Owlman when you know that he's a better fighter than you are." Three." He added a third finger. "You used your gun." Bruce walked over to a table and weighed Jason's gun in one hand before handing it back to him.

"I use guns," Jason, face flushed, spat back. "I don't have your stupid prejudice against them."

Batman sighed. "Three. You used your gun. Using guns is a crutch, Jason, and it always has been. I taught you to defend yourself and to win in a fight using your brain and your skills. If you put in half the effort at physical defense as you do in target shooting, you would have won that fight! Do you ever wonder why Dick can beat you in a fight? That's why. Owlman evaded your shots easily, which is a skill I taught you when you were fourteen. Do I have to go on?"

Jason just stood there. "So we're back to that, are we? Dick is perfect and I'll never measure up to him. Doesn't matter. I'm saving Dick because I want to, not because you told me to. And I'm going to leave here and save the bastard as soon as _someone gives me back my pants!_" 

* * *

><p>Twelve Hours Later<p>

The Aerie

Dick Grayson dreamed.

He was back at Haley's Circus, watching his parents fall from the trapeze. Again, he was an anguished boy watching his mother and father die. He stood in the center ring and cried as the Gotham cops covered the bodies, then felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up.

A tall man in a dark overcoat stood next to him, blue eyes filled with concern. The face shimmered and a slightly different set of features overlaid them. Oh yes, Dick recalled, Thomas Wayne, the millionaire. His parents had had business dealings with him. "Don't worry, Richard. I'm here for you, " Thomas said softly. Dick blinked up at him, blinded by his tears.

"Come on, Dick, let's go," Thomas was saying gently. "You shouldn't be here anymore. I'll take you home." Thomas took off his coat and slung it over the boy's shoulders.

Dick remembered that rainy night. Alfred held an umbrella over both of them as Thomas opened the huge door to the mansion. As Thomas led him in, he said "Welcome to your new home, Richard." And the man seemed honestly glad to have him. He and Alfred both made him welcome."

He smiled as he recalled Alfred's special treats. He even bought his favorite brand of breakfast cereal because he knew that he liked it. And Thomas was great. He included Dick in all his business plans and, eventually, Dick learned about Owlman. When Thomas suggested hesitantly that Dick might like to train to be his Talon, Dick was overjoyed to be included in Thomas' important work.


	20. Going Home

CHAPTER 20

A quick note to the Jason fans out there. I am not closely adhering to the New52 origin story for Jason and my Jason, at least, has made his way back into the Family of his own accord. He has not erased any of his memories, as the New52 Jason has done.

And please remember, Reviews are Life! 

The Aerie

"How is it going?" Thomas Wayne asked Alfred.

Alfred sitting next to Dick's bedside, adjusted the boy's headphones and lightly increased the volume of the tape recording. He removed his own headset and placed it carefully down on the table next to him and smiled.

"Very well, sir. The hypnotics are working as expected and the mind-cleansing drug we were able to bring from home works as well on Earth 1 as it did on our Earth. It is progressively wiping all of Richard's original memories and replacing them with those we have provided. After forty eight hours, he will remember only that you took him in, trained him to be a Talon and has been his foster father for years." Alfred examined the iv bag taped to Richard's elbow. "I should add more of the mind-cleanser, though. He appeared to be fighting some of our additions a few minutes ago. I think we need to increase the dose."

"Do we have enough?" Thomas queried anxiously. "And have you added those additional details I requested?"

"I have, sir. The lad's been hearing my voice telling him his entire life story for the past twelve hours, including the detail that the Batman had him kidnapped when we arrived at this world and tried to brainwash him into believing that he was Bruce's own son, later Nightwing. We, of course, rescued him and Talon loyally defended himself, beating Batman's agent, Red Hood, to a pulp." Alfred injected more serum into the iv port. "There. That should do it. I can leave the player to run on its own. Master Richard won't awaken on his own. Would you care for a snack, sir?" Alfred tucked the blankets around Dick more securely and cocked his head at Thomas.

Thomas smiled back. "Some of your hot cocoa would be welcome, old friend, and maybe some sandwiches. For the moment, I think I'll stay with Richard. " He sat and took the boy's hand. "It feels so good to have my boy back again, Alfred. You can't know!"

Alfred smiled at Thomas. "I understand family, sir, as well you know. I'll be back in two ticks!"

Thomas sat back in the chair, hearing the low murmur of the voice from the recording. Dick's eyes were moving swiftly behind his closed eyelids, clearly he was absorbing the 'memories' that Alfred was recounting to him. If they had done the job right, even Grayson's original memories would alter, washing out Bruce Wayne and replacing him with Thomas. But that, of course, was the way it should be.

Holding Dick's hand in both of his, Thomas thanked a God he didn't believe in for the return of his son. Aside from Alfred, Dick was the only family he still possessed. He'd been stupid to tell his own Richard the truth about his parents' death, or about what really had happened to Barbara Gordon and her pesky father. This time he would do things right.

"Ba...Batma...?" Dick murmured and Thomas stilled. The boy was still calling for Bruce. He'd thought they'd wiped that out during the boy's first eight hours of treatment! Well, he could fix this too. He picked the headset and paused the recorder.

"Dick? Dick, it's me, Thomas. It's all right. You're safe now," he murmured in a soothing voice. "Batman kidnapped you and tried to brainwash you. Those are all false memories he planted in your mind! Remember, I raised you with Alfred's help. You're part of our family. Batman wanted you because his own Richard Grayson died and he wanted to replace him with you. But you were stronger than him; you broke away and ran to us! We rescued you when Red Hood followed you and you fought back against them. You're safe at our Gotham headquarters. Do you remember what we called it?"

Dick smiled, half open. "The aerie."

"That's right, the aerie. The Court of Owls is protecting us here, just like they did on our own earth. Do you remember?"

Dick frowned a bit, then brightened. "You were the head of the Court of Owls..."

"That's right, I was. And I am the leader here, too. And you are the best Talon the Court has ever seen! I am so very glad that we have you back home again," Thomas said gently and tucked the blankets more firmly around the lad. The boy was constantly in motion, just like his own Richard had been. He frequently kicked off blankets and sheets. Just as he had done for his young son on Earth-3, so he did for his new son on Earth-1, he patted the boy's feet lightly. "Time to sleep, now Dickie. Have good dreams of flying through the air with Owlman."

Dick nodded. "Good dreams.." and dropped off again. Thomas unpaused the player, allowing it to continue drilling the new memories into Owlman's new Talon.

He watched Dick's face some more while he slept. From the scars he'd seen on the boy's body when Alfred and he had prepped him for this procedure, this Richard Grayson was as big a daredevil as his own had been. Thomas sighed. Bruce didn't have a clue what he'd had in the boy! Imagine, firing him! Such a valuable asset wasn't something one threw away. Richard Grayson truly was the best and none of Batman's replacements had come close to holding a candle to him.

Batman was weak. He'd let his own feelings get in the way of his own self-interest. He'd allowed fear that Dick might die to influence his choice of partner. Afraid that Dick would get killed had pushed him into settling for a mediocre replacement: Jason Todd. Who promptly got himself killed!

The hot anger built again in Thomas' ribcage. Bruce had thrown away this his Richard because he'd what? Grown up? Begun questioning Bruce's decisions? All boys did that. What a waste of Bruce's time and training ability Jason Todd had proven himself. Bruce deserved to lose this Richard to someone who could appreciate him more and treat him better, too!

Momentarily, Thomas regretted not killing the Red Hood. A second time; he grinned a wolfish grin. But no, he'd needed to send Bruce a firm message and he knew that Red Hood was the best way to carry it. Leave me alone or everyone you love will die at my hands! If he'd killed Red Hood, undoubtedly Bruce would have gone into one of his legendary rages. Weak. Such weakness! It would have made him easier to kill, certainly, but it would also have distracted Thomas from this valuable time with Richard. Let Richard kill both of them later, when he was ready. He heard a sound and turned to find Alfred with a tray.

"Hot cocoa and sandwiches, as you requested sir," the butler said. Thomas rose from his seat and settled at the table nearby.

"Thank you, Alfred. This cocoa is delicious as usual," Thomas said, helping himself to a sandwich. Alfred settled himself back in the chair beside Dick's bed and donned the headset again.

Sipping Alfred's fine hot chocolate and eating one of his delicious sandwiches, Thomas knew contentment. At last, all was right with the world. 

* * *

><p>The Batcave<p>

Bruce and Jason stared at each other, then Jason began to falter. Bruce caught him before he could hit the cave floor and carried him back to the bed. Retrieving the blanket, Bruce draped it over his son and sat down in the chair again.

"Jason, I thought that we agreed you were going to try things my way from now on," Bruce said, voice husky. "I don't want to lose all of my sons. Damian's gone and Dick is a prisoner. I need you."

Bruce thought back to the night that Jason had taken the first step at coming back into the family. Shortly after his return from being cast into Time by Darkseid, he'd had a visitor.

His sleep had been disturbed by a noise and he woke to see a dark figure near the window of his room in the mansion.

"Who are you?" he'd barked, leaping out of bed to defend himself. Jason Todd moved into a puddle of light and stood there. He wasn't dressed as Red Hood, nor did he seem to be armed. "Jason! Why are you here?" he demanded.

"I just wanted..." Jason cleared his throat. "I wanted to see if the rumors were right. That you were alive. And you are." He turned back towards the window. "I'll go now."

"Stop, Jason! Wait!" Bruce cried out and Jason halted, face still turned towards the window. "You came to check. Why?"

Jason turned around and shrugged. "Why do you think?"

"You aren't still angry with me for not killing the Joker?" Bruce asked.

Jason shook his head. "No. Somehow, he seems irrelevant now. I haven't forgotten but now, I just don't care as much. I fought Dick for the cowl, you know. I didn't want to see your legacy disappear."

Bruce nodded. "Dick told me about it all. I appreciate that you wanted to continue my work, although I can't agree about the methods you wanted to use or the damage you did to Tim and Damian."

The two stood in silence, each trying to find the words to make a connection. Bruce spoke first.

"You still have a home here, Jason. You can come back."

"Even now?" Jason grimaced. "You don't want me. I'm the crazy, violent one. You even said so in your will. Yeah, Dick showed me the hologram..."

"I still think that you could benefit from treatment, Jason. You need to learn to deal with your rage," Bruce said. "But you can still come home, Jason. You never stopped being my son."

"You...mean it?" Jason replied slowly. "You actually want me back?"

"I never stopped," Bruce said steadily. "And I'd like you back on the streets with me again, but only if you go into treatment first." He opened his arms. "Just give it a try, Jason. Come home."

To his delighted surprise, the years seemed to drop away and Jason Todd stepped into his arms, returning his hug.

"After what Joker did...He ruined me forever. I'm tainted by him and by the Lazarus pit..." Jason's moaned and started shaking. Bruce just held him.

"You aren't tainted. You just lost your way for a while, but this was always your home and it always will be," Bruce said.

Jason had gone into treatment with the psychiatrist Bruce had found. At first, Bruce had sat on tenterhooks, waiting for Jason to crack and do something that would put him into jail. But the boy persevered, and improved. After a short run as

In the Batcave, Bruce could see that Jason was remembering, too.

"Look, Bruce, you won't lose me. You just said that you need me. Well, you do, but not wrapped away in damned cotton wadding! You need my help to get Dick back! Yeah, he can be a total prick sometimes, but he's family and nobody hurts my family, now that I've got one!" Jason's eyes pleaded with Bruce to understand.

"All right, all right," Bruce said. "But you follow orders! The first order is that you sleep tonight. I'm going to do some scouting alone, but you're back on the team tomorrow. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," Jason said.


	21. A New Talon Rises

Lots and lots of thanks for all the reviews and comments! Bless you all! But don't stop now ;) And things will only get worse for our heroes...

CHAPTER 21

The Aerie

The setting sun showed red over Gotham City, dim as it usually was. A young acrobat fastened the last clasp on his body armor and donned the mask. He was ready, as ready as he could be. His mentor smiled warmly at him.

"Are you ready, chum?" he asked.

The boy smacked his right fist into the palm of the other hand. "I was born ready! Let's roll!" He ran for the car and leapt into it, followed swiftly by his mentor, teacher and best friend in the world. The car squealed out of the cave and was soon on the road to Gotham proper.

"So, what's first on the list?" The boy asked, fighting the butterflies in his stomach.

"First, we'll pay a few calls on various crooks and petty thieves infesting Gotham. Then, I thought I would show you my regular patrol route," his mentor smiled again. "Since it's your first night out, I thought we'd take it easy."

The boy frowned. "No fighting? You've taught me to use escrima sticks, how to box, karate and a half dozen other martial arts and I don't get to use 'em?"

"Oh, there will be fighting. Don't you worry about that, pal! Okay, we'll park and take the rooftops from here." He pulled the car over and jumped out, cape flying behind him. He extended an arm and the wrist-grapple shot up multiple stories and found purchase. The boy next to him did the same. Soon they were flying through the night air, together and in perfect accord.

"It just doesn't get any better than this," Owlman's new Talon murmured into his comm microphone.

"You're right, it doesn't," Owlman said back. "Here we are." He came to a stop on a rooftop balcony and gestured at Talon for silence. They stood in the shadows and overheard the voices inside. The loudest came through clearly.

"...skimming? Of course I been skimming! Owlman and that damned Court of his are bleeding me dry! How c'n I make a decent living if he takes sixty percent off the top? An' I tol' him so! Next time he shows up here, I'll give him what for. No pansy in a birdy getup is gonna beat Sal Maroni!"

Owlman gave a count of three with his fingers and at 'one' the two crashed through the windows and into the room. Talon quickly spotted the gunmen and moved in to take them out. He was nervous about making his first kill, but Thomas had reassured him that everyone felt that way in the beginning.

He bounced off the couch and landed behind one of the gunmen and gave his head a quick twist. He felt the bones crack beneath his fingers and knew he'd done it right. With a grin, he went to the next one.

In the meantime, Owlman was maneuvering among the rest of the gunmen. Bullets rained throughout the room but both Owlman and his partner dodged them easily, a result of training Talon with live fire. Owlman killed efficiently and soon the room was filled with bodies except for one man.

Owlman stalked over to where Sal Maroni huddled under his heavy teakwood desk. Talon closed in from the other side.

"You want me to kill him?" Talon asked with a big grin.

Owlman smiled back. The boy was eager. He'd have to work on that. Overeager could get him killed. "Not yet, Talon. I want to talk to Mr. Maroni first."

Owlman bent and dragged Maroni out from under the desk by the ankles. He reached a hand down and pulled the shivering man to his feet and dusted him off. "Sal, Sal, all this fuss over a simple payment. I know that you've had some bad advice but I'm here to help you out," Owlman said.

"Y..you gonna kill me?" Maroni glanced from Owlman to the boy and back.

"It might not be necessary, although Talon does need the experience. Don't you chum?" Owlman nodded at his protégé, who grinned right back and put a hand on Maroni's shoulder.

"No! No, don't kill me! Please! I'll pay. I'll pay! Whatever ya want!" Maroni squealed. "Don't let the kid have me!"

Owlman nodded and the boy backed away. "All right, Sal. Here's the deal. From now on I'm not skimming from the top. I take all of it. You're working for me. You'll get a cut, run the business, but all the strategic decisions are mine from now on. Capice?"

Sal, shoulders bowed, nodded. "Anything ya want, Owlman. Jus' don't kill me, okay? I gotta family."

Owlman smiled benignly. "Sal, I think you'll find that you've made a good decision today. You're just not cut out to be the CEO of a large organization, you're much better at day to day operations. Now that I've lifted a load from your shoulders, Talon will take our payment."

Talon headed for the far wall and removed a painting, leaving the wall safe bare. Without asking for the combination, the boy expertly spun the dial and listened carefully and the safe was open. He retrieved a thin nylon bag from his belt and quickly filled it with stacks of money, leaving only a little behind in the safe. He returned to Owlman's side.

"We're leaving you running expenses, Sal. If you need more, call this number," Owlman handed Sal a card. "And I'll send Talon over with more. He'll also be checking your books, so they'd better be clean. Got that?"

Sal nodded dumbly. Owlman continued.

"Talon will come here every Tuesday night to get the take. As you have seen, he can take care of himself, so don't try to give him the greeting he got tonight. Talon," he turned to his partner. "How many people did you kill tonight?"

"I got six gunmen, Owlman," Talon said proudly.

"You see why you need to cooperate, then," Owlman said, meeting Maroni's eyes. "Okay, Talon, I think he's convinced. We'll make our next stop."

They left Sal Maroni behind in his ruined office, surrounded by what had been his personal army. After the last body slipped through the window, he began to sob.

At Dick Grayson's bedside, Thomas Wayne listened to Alfred's taped voice telling the story, and smiled. Dick smiled, too. His face had momentarily taken on the cast of a much younger person, alight with pride. Dick's face was so like his own Talon's that Owlman's throat constricted. No, he reminded himself. This is my Talon and he has always been my Talon. I must remember that.

* * *

><p>The Batcave<p>

Tim, aka Red Robin, swept into the Batcave, closely followed by Batgirl. Bruce and Jason both stood up, startled.

"What are you two doing here?" Bruce demanded. "I sent you both on missions."

"Why didn't you tell us that Dick had been captured again by Owlman?" Tim demanded, stomping towards his mentor. "You said he was safe!"

"You said that he'd left Owlman on his own and he was staying with Jason!" Batgirl added, then took a good look at Jason. "What happened to you?"

Jason flushed with embarrassment. "Nothing," he grumbled. "Nothing happened to me."

Bruce backed away, pulling his cowl back into place, folding his arms across his chest. "Owlman happened to him when he tried to keep him from taking Dick. Jason hit the emergency beacon but Owlman was gone by the time I got there," he said. "Looks like Dick is missing again."

"Where do you want us?" Batgirl asked.

"I don't want you, any of you, involved in this," Batman said crisply. "That includes you, Jason. In a moment of weakness I told you that you can help. This is dangerous, too dangerous for any of you to be involved."

"What makes this Owlman-person any more lethal than the Joker or any of the other criminals we've fought?" Tim said, his own arms folded, mirroring Batman's stance.

"Owlman has all of my skills, but with one addition," Batman said slowly. "He kills. I don't think he enjoys it, but he has no compunction about killing any of you."

"Huh!" Tim said defensively. "That's no different than any of the mooks Gotham comes up with."

"I said, he has my skills," Batman said. "Jason is lucky that he chose to send a message instead of killing him outright."

"You mean, Jason looks like that because Owlman didn't _want_ to kill him?" Barbara whispered, eyes drawn to Jason's glorious set of bruises. Jason sat back down onto his bed and tried to sink into it.

"I'm still here, you know," Jason muttered. "And I can fight just fine. Owlman got the drop on me, that's all."

"I don't want any of you out there when I go for Owlman," Batman concluded.

"But, what about Dick?" Batgirl said. "What if he's hurt or drugged? You'll need help with him."

"And that creepy zomboid butler," Tim added. "You should be able to keep all your attention on Owlman. You'll need us." He glanced at Jason. "All of us to watch your back and get Dick out safely. You always told us that there is strength in numbers, especially if the team is well trained. So, ask our trainer whether he did a good job with us!"

"He has you there, sir," Alfred commented, bringing in a tray filled with sandwiches, coffee and his famous cookies. "I thought that you might be a bit peckish, so I brought some comestibles."

The atmosphere calmed as Alfred handed around the food. Even Jason took some, chewing carefully to avoid his loosened teeth. While everyone was occupied with their snacks, Alfred cleared his throat. "It seems to me, sir, that Master Timothy and Miss Barbara have a point, as does Master Jason. You are not the only person in this family who cares about Master Dick's welfare."

Bruce, cowl pulled back again, scowled at Alfred but didn't put his sandwich down. "You're saying I should lead them into deadly danger?"

"I am saying, sir, that you have trained a fine group of fighters. It would be a foolish waste to refuse to avail yourself of their gifts because of your pride," Alfred sipped his own tea and sat calmly in his chair.

Bruce thought a moment, then exchanged glances with Jason, Tim, Barbara and finally with Alfred. "I'm outnumbered, aren't I?"

"I am afraid so," Alfred replied. "Miss Barbara is remarkably good at data retrieval, perhaps she could add to the dossier we already have on Owlman. There may be hidden files that you were unable to access. Masters Tim and Jason could comb the area where Dick was taken to see if there is any additional evidence. Admittedly, you were in a hurry, given Jason's condition at the time."

"And what am I supposed to do while all this work is going on?" Bruce asked.

"I would suggest that you go upstairs and sleep. You haven't slept adequately since you found out about Master Dick." Alfred stood. "I can provide pharmaceutical help if needed."

Bruce gave the group a half smile. "All right, I know when I'm beaten. I'll go upstairs if it will make you happy, Alfred. The rest of you, I will be back in five hours. Give me a complete status then."

* * *

><p>The Aerie<p>

"I want you to wake him," Owlman said quietly to Alfred.

"Why, sir?" Alfred asked in surprise. "You know that the conditioning takes concentrated time to set the new memories."

"This will take time. We need to mold his muscle memory as well as his physical. He remembers how to act like a talon, but his body doesn't know that yet. Can you put him in a light trance? Enough to let him train with me?" Owlman asked.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully. "I suppose I could. Mind you, I wouldn't want to do this too often or the memories won't set as they should."

"Go ahead and do it, then. How old does he think he is now?" Owlman donned his gauntlets.

"About age fifteen or so," Alfred said, adding chemicals to the iv bag. "He will come around in a few minutes. But when you're done training, he must go right back to the conditioning."

"Don't worry, Alfred. My goal is to have a well-rounded talon when we're done. I don't want to jeopardize the work already done, " Owlman said. "Look, he's waking!"

Dick Grayson looked up in bewilderment. "Uh...Owlman?" he said slowly. Alfred helped him to sit up and began removing the IV needle from Dick's arm. Dick watched and licked his lips. "What...what happened? Was I injured?"

"Something like that," Owlman replied. "But we need you to get up for a bit and exercise before your muscles lose tone. I thought that a gentle workout would help."

Dick nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess so. But what happened to me? Why do I feel so woozy?"

Owlman put a hand on Dick's shoulder and guided him towards the workout area. "Batman kidnapped you, remember? He gave you drugs, terrible drugs to make you into his own henchman. But we got you back and we're cleaning the drugs out of your system."

"Oh, yeah," Dick said, sounding more confident. "That's right. You saved me again, Thomas. Thank you!"

"You're welcome, chum," Owlman replied. "And now, lets get in some practice. We'll take care of Batman when we see him, won't we?"


	22. Redemption

This chapter is for Shiroi Misa. Yes, I thought that if I pushed I could get you a chapter :)

CHAPTER 22

Jason and Tim rode back to where Dick Grayson had been kidnapped. Tim, whose forensic training was more recent than Jason's, took lead. They both combed every inch of the area, looking for any clue, no matter how tiny. The setting sun made it all the more important that they use the available light while they had it. After four hours, even Jason had to admit that there was nothing left.

"Look, I got an idea," Jason finally said. "There's a guy who always knows what's happening on the street. If anybody knows where they took Dick, he will."

"Fine, let's go talk to him," Tim raised his arm, ready to fire his grapple but Jason stopped him.

"He doesn't come out until midnight or so. We'll have ta wait," Jason explained.

"I'm not going back to the cave," Tim said. "Batman won't let us out again."

"He won't let _you_ out again. He doesn't control _me_," Jason said. Tim just looked at him.

"So, what now?" Tim asked. "I could use some food."

"I know just the place," Jason said and led him to the same 24 hour diner he'd fed Dick at.

The waitress seated them and brought menus without even a lifted eyebrow, even though both were in full vigilante gear. Tim was amused at her lack of reaction. "What? Do heroes dine here regularly?"

"I dunno," Jason said, reading the menu. "But I come here pretty regularly and I used to take Damian when I was Wingman and Damian was my partner. The kid liked their veggie burgers and the strawberry milkshakes."

"You two got close?" Tim asked.

"I watched his back and he had mine," Jason said. "Of course, when he found out who I was, all that changed." Jason put down his menu and flagged the waitress. "But he was still a great partner."

"Yes? What'll it be?" she asked, undisturbed at talking to a man in a red mask.

"I'll have the veggie burger and a strawberry milkshake," Jason said, handing her the menu.

"I'll have the same," Tim said. Damian had been an obnoxious, spoiled little brat. But he'd been _their_ obnoxious, spoiled little brat!

When the meals arrived, all was silence at first, then Tim put his burger down. "Why do you think Owlman really wants Dick?" He coughed uncomfortably. "I mean, let's face it. Dick could moonlight as a male stripper."

"He has. At least, when he was undercover. He took in a mint in tips," Jason grinned, then took a sip of his own shake. "I talked ta Dick about Owlman and he says the guy never looked at him that way or made any kinda sexual moves on him. The Boss thinks it's some kinda obsession with family. Owlman lost his own Dick Grayson and wants ours to replace him. And obsession's the word for it. This guy's been focused on Dick ever since they captured him."

"Yeah, and that's the scary part," Tim replied. "Does the Boss know just how crazy this guy is?"

"Thomas is a Wayne, isn't he?" Jason said with a grin. "Takes one ta know one." 

* * *

><p>As midnight approached, they set off for the meeting point. Although they were to meet Jason's contact, somehow Tim found himself in the lead even though he was only travelling at half speed through the tall buildings. Tim looked over his shoulder at Red Hood and consciously slowed down some more. If Jason thought he was going easy on him, he'd be furious but frankly, the Hood was barely able to move right now.<p>

"Stop waiting for me," Jason huffed. "I'll catch up to you. You don't have to baby me, like..."

"You mean, like Nightwing would," Tim said, watching Jason catch his breath. "You know, the only reason I didn't tie you up and leave you behind is that you really do want to find Dick. After all these years of you trying to kill him or show him up, it's worth seeing."

"Well, yeah," Jason mumbled. "I changed my mind about him. An' he was always nice ta me when I was Robin, ya know? Besides, with Dick around, Batman pays more attention ta him and less ta what I'm doin'."

"Makes sense," Tim bit back a smile. "So, this was your territory when you had the gang?"

"Yeah. My own little slice of Gotham," Jason said, looking around. "We just need ta head two more blocks down an' turn right. One a' my runners has a corner there. He usually knows everything that happens on the street." Without waiting for Tim, Jay fired his grapple gun and began swinging.

They arrived at an empty corner that featured the ruins of a gas station, facing a boarded up grocery store. "This is it?" Tim asked dubiously. "Looks like a good place to get killed."

"It is that," Jason agreed and held a hand down. "Keep your voice down. He's on his way."

A minute later, a skinny street kid shuffled into sight. His pants, crotch hanging low, prevented him from moving any faster. Tim was briefly amused by the brightly colored underwear peeking out between the kid's hoodie and the sagging jeans.

_"Lalo! Whatcha got for me?"_ Jason asked in Spanish.

The kid raised his head and took a long hard look at Tim, then met Jason's eyes.

_"He's okay,"_ Jason said. _"He's an ally. Anybody see a kidnapping at W and 4th Streets? Big guy dressed as an owl, hauling away a blond haired guy?"_

Lalo said. _"The Owl-guy is movin' in on all the old gang territories. Even yours. One of Penguin's guys approached me an' said that we better start payin' tribute ta Penguin, then Penguin pays the Big Guy off for us. I haven't heard about any kidnapping."_

_"Do you know where Owlman's headquarters are?" _ Jason asked, shaken. He hadn't wanted Tim to know that he had retained his gang ties. Batman knew, but he also knew that the network had its uses.

_"No, sir,"_ Lalo said, shaking his head. _"He just appears, 'Boom!', and then he's gone."_

_"Okay," _Jason said. _"Find out where Owlman is. He's got one of my...allies...and I've gotta get him back fast. Call this number if you hear anything." _Jason handed the hood a card. _"Any time, day or night. Got it?"_

_"Yes sir," _Lalo said solemnly. _"I'll call if I hear or see anything."_

Jason turned and and had begun to stride away when Tim grabbed his forearm. "Wait a minute, Hood! My Spanish is rusty, but you just admitted that you still front for that gang. What's up? Does Batman know about this?"

Jason pulled his arm away. "Yeah. He knows. And it's none of your business!" He walked swiftly away. Tim had to hustle to keep up with him.

"So, what now?" Time panted. "Willya slow down?"

Jason stopped dead and Tim almost ran past him. "Is this what you want?" Jason asked with anger rising in his face.

Tim stopped to, then realized why Jason was mad. "You thought for sure that Lalo would know how to find Dick, didn't you? And you're angry that you can't be the savior for once." Tim caught his breath, waiting for Jason to punch him and was surprised when the blow didn't come.

"So, why haven't you hit me yet? Or shot me?" Tim asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I'm not as hot-headed as I used to be," Jason admitted. "But, you're right. I am mad that I can't be the one who's the hero this time. I never can seem to be more heroic than the rest of you." He turned and began to walk up the sidewalk.

"Jay, remember what Batman said once?" Tim followed him. "He said that no one Robin was the best one, that each of us was different and each added different gifts to the job."

"Yeah, he would say that," Jason said, scuffing the pavement with a boot. "Every day I wore the "R", I lived in Grayson's shadow. Then I got myself killed, by Joker no less and when I got resurrected, lucky me, I went rogue! I became a menace that all the rest of you had to defend against. I was a monster. I still am."

_Oh Boy_, Tim thought. _I sure tripped something this time. Hope he doesn't shoot me. _"Jay, you would never have become Robin if Batman didn't think you could handle it. You did a fine job. I should know, I was keeping up with the two of you while you were out there!"

"Yeah, that's right," Jason grinned briefly. "You were our little 'stalker Timmy', weren't you? But the fact is, I'm back on sufferance. If I kill somebody or mess up big, Batman'll shut me away in Arkham and throw away the key this time!"

"Bruce wouldn't do that!" Tim insisted in a low voice. "You were always the one he lost. He never gave up hope for you. Why do you think he kept your suit on display?"

"As a symbol of his failure," Jason replied. "After I died, Nightwing told him that Batman skimped on my training and that was why I got killed. I saw it on one of the old security cameras. Batman tossed 'Wing out of the cave at that point. He was furious. Nightwing doesn't think I was a good enough Robin." Jason stopped and eyed the buildings surrounding them. "I wonder..."

"So that's why you've been working so hard to rescue Nightwing? To finally prove yourself? That's why you came back?" Tim asked, light dawning.

Jason nodded. "I went to the shrink Batman set me up with, I did everything I was told and I want...no, I need to prove to him and to everyone that I am not a monster! That I'm capable. That..."

"That he chose the right Robin," Tim finished. "Okay, I get that. But your buddy didn't pan out. "

"No, he didn't. But I'm wondering about Owlman's contacts here in Gotham. Let's go back to the cave. I've got a question for Batman," Jason said.

"Yeah, and I want to see what Batgirl has turned up," Tim replied. As one, they raised their grapple guns and began their way back to where their motorcycles were parked. 

* * *

><p>The Aerie<p>

"That's right!" Owlman said as Talon kicked the head off a third dummy. "Now the knives!"

Talon rapid-fired half a dozen tiny daggers at the mannequins but only a few were centered. He stopped abruptly and went over to pick up the daggers and rearmed. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Thomas," Talon complained. "Usually my aim is a lot better than this!"

Owlman clicked his tongue. "Batman had you for a long time and he forced you to use batarangs instead. I imagine that your aim is a lot better with something like that right now, or with a slingshot. Just keep practicing. Everything will come back to you eventually."

"It all feels...really strange, " Talon said, patting at his bandolier. "Even the set of my uniform feels off. How long did he have me, anyway?"

"Oh, months," Owlman said. "It took us a while to find you, you know. Did you know that Batman came to our Earth and faked your death? He made it look like the Joker had killed you. It took months for Alfred and I to locate you on this Earth. The rest of our colleagues still think you're dead. I wanted to keep my search private for your own safety."

Richard grinned, the sheer familiarity of it making Thomas' heart thump. "Yeah, Ultraman never liked me. He thought I was pretty obnoxious as a kid and I only got ruder as I got older. Good thing you like puns!" the boy said and began firing daggers again.

Thomas laughed out loud for the first time in too long. "Richard, you are right as always. But then, Clark never did have any sense of humor. Now, let's see you show me some kill strikes."

Thomas watched as Talon efficiently executed more mannequins, demonstrating a variety of strikes and strangleholds. He became aware that Alfred had quietly stepped up next to him.

"Yes, Alfred?"

"The lad is coming along, sir," the butler said. "I regret, but it is time for him to resume his...erm...treatment."

"Yes, you're right," Thomas said. "And the boy is beginning to tire, in any case. Richard!" he called and Talon stopped moving. "Go take a shower and go with Alfred. It's time for your treatment."

"Do I have to?" Richard asked. "I feel fine!"

"Do you want to wake up in the batcave?" Thomas asked gently. At Richard's head shake, he said. "Then you have to continue your treatments to drive all the false memories out of you. We'll laugh about all this when you've finished. So, go shower and report to Alfred. I'll wake you when it's time for physical training again."

Richard moved obediently towards the locker area, then turned. "Thomas," he said with a glowing smile. "I never did thank you. Thank you for coming after me and bringing me home again. It's good to be with family again."

Thomas blushed but waved Talon back. "Of course I went after you! Now go on before you decide to come hug me or something!"

Talon chuckled and, wrapping a towel around his shoulders, went into the showers.


	23. Bat Family Ties

Sorry this chapter is a bit late. Jason and I have been arguing steadily throughout and we've finally reached a compromise. And I didn't get shot.

CHAPTER 23

The Aerie

Talon soared through the skies in Owlman's wake, loving the crisp tang of the Gotham smog. He landed beside Owlman at the next stop on their route.

"Now, when I say 'go', I want you to go for the biggest guy they got and neutralize him, okay?" Owlman instructed.

"Got it, boss," Talon said. "So, y'know what today is?" he asked, grinning.

Owlman smiled at his young friend. "What is it now?"

Talon puffed out his chest and stood at the full height his nineteen years gave him. "This is our tenth anniversary as a team, Owlman! You brought me home with you exactly ten years ago tonight. I betcha didn't think I had it in me when you saw me at the circus!"

"I'm proud of you, son," Owlman said, laying a brief hand on Talon's shoulder. "At the circus I saw the potential in you right away. And I know that if your parents could see what you've done, they'd be proud of you."

"You think so?" Talon asked, voice dropping a bit. "That's good to know. And I'm glad you're proud of me."

"Here they come," Owlman rumbled. "Focus, Talon!"

"No worries!" Talon said cheerfully and moved to his place at Owlman's shoulder, watching those approaching carefully.

"Owlman, you're under arrest," the man in the middle of the group said. He wore a suit but the other men wore the uniform of the Gotham City Police Department.

Talon moved. He dashed towards the tallest cop there, a burly man who clearly was eating too many doughnuts, Talon noted. His uniform needed a press job, too. With a whoop, Talon had the man down and the hyoid bone in his neck broken before the cop could draw his weapon. Talon grabbed the gun and stood over the body, holding the man in the center at gunpoint.

"Commissioner Gordon, how nice to see you again," Talon said with a grin. "I'm sorry about Officer...Bullock," he said, reading the dead cop's name tag. "But you need to know that we mean business."

Gordon stared at the young Talon. "You're awfully young for this. You can't be more than eighteen; I have a daughter your age. How did you get mixed up with him?" He gestured towards the silent Owlman.

Talon laughed and bounced back to his mentor, still training the gun on Gordon. "I'm old enough to know the game, Commissioner. But we're businessmen here. What you might call entrepreneurs."

"I'll talk to your master, not to you," Gordon replied stolidly. "Owlman. Just what is it you want?"

Owlman patted Talon's shoulder and took a step forward. "As Talon said, we are entrepreneurs. We plan to control all the crime in Gotham City. But for our business to prosper, there can't be chaos in the streets. So here is the deal. We will eliminate minor crimes, purse snatching, thefts, rapes in Gotham City in exchange for regular monthly payments of ten thousand dollars from the City. That should actually be cost-effective, you could lay off some cops and the people will feel safe."

"While you smuggle and deal drugs and run all the rackets," Gordon said. "No deal."

Owlman shook his head. "So messy. And so time consuming if we have to approach every Gotham cop and bring him onto our payroll. It's so much easier to manage the larger contract. In any case, do carry our offer to the Mayor. We'll look forward to hearing from you. Officer Bullock's death should convince you of our seriousness."

As he raised his arm to shoot the grapple gun, a flash of light came from a raised gun in the crowd of cops.

"Owlman! Talon yelled and shot the cop between the eyes. "Go! Before they all start shooting!"

Owlman took flight with Talon following, the gun in his hand blazing into the crowd on the rooftop.

Later, when they were safely at Wayne Manor, Alfred brought in a tray. "Some hot chocolate for you, sirs. I also baked some cookies today, knowing that the date is a special one." He set down a large plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies next to Richard. The boy grinned and grabbed three.

"Thanks, Alfie," he said as Thomas shushed them both.

"The evening news!" he said and they were all silent as the news reported that Talon had shot three cops in addition to Officer Bullock. Two had died and the third was in critical condition, not expected to survive. Thomas rose and turned the television off, then sat on the couch beside his boy.

"Thank you for your quick action, Richard," Thomas said. "You saved my life today and you've been a...light...in my world ever since you arrived. You've been the brother I always wished I had."

"You're welcome. " Richard said and leaned in to give Thomas a hug. "I didn't have anyone left in the world, but you gave me a home. I'll never forget everything you've done for me, Thomas."

"I'm the one in your debt, Richard," Thomas murmured. "Just...stay safe out there, will you?"

Richard laughed out loud. "Nothing can stop the team of Owlman and Talon!" He glanced at Alfred and his grin got wider. "And Alfred, of course."

Alfred smiled back benignly at his two 'boys' and quietly left the room. 

* * *

><p>The Batcave<p>

They arrived in the middle of a loud argument between Superman, Wonder Woman and Batman.

"You don't need me!" Batman shouted, pounding his fist on the table. "Dick was kidnapped by Owlman and I have to find him! You can deal with Ultraman yourselves. You already know his weakness. Dick told Jason that light, concentrated light will bring him down."

Superman and Wonder Woman exchanged glances. "Bruce," Wonder Woman said in a pleading voice. "You have the resources and the strategic ability we need right now. We have to lure Ultraman into the trap. Since Clark hit him, Ultraman has been lying low. He won't come out if he knows we're waiting for him." She met Superman's eye and he took over.

"Bruce," a look of embarrassment crossed Clark's even features. "We're just not...good...at deception. Diana is a warrior and, well, you know me. My parents didn't emphasize sneakiness in my upbringing. We only have one shot at this and we won't get another chance. We need you to plan it."

"Besides, we are well aware of the apparent favor Owlman showed Dick while he was a captive. Dick is safe enough where he is for the time being. Surely the rest of your team can keep up the search,' Diana added.

Bruce's jaw tightened enough to seemingly fracture a tooth. His voice began in a gravelly undertone, rising slowly until he finished in a shout.

"Jason died. Damian died. I'm incredibly lucky that I have Jason back, although I still regret the years we lost. Now my eldest has been taken by a criminal who has all of my intelligence and skills and just might be better than me. And you're asking me to just leave my son there because you two need somebody to do your covert planning?"

Both Superman and Wonder Woman looked cowed. Superman ventured uncertainly, "We were also hoping that you would give us the kryptonite you hold. To bait the trap..."

Jason, who had stood motionless just inside the entrance with Tim, erupted.

"Just who the hell do you think you are?" he demanded, stalking over to the Man of Steel and Wonder Woman. "Do you know how hard we've been looking for Dick? Do you know why?"

He stationed himself just in front of Superman and continued. "Because nobody in this family is expendable! After I died and came back, Bruce hounded me. For years, he kept making the offer, 'Come home, Jason. Come home!' And he never gave up. Not ever!" Jason threw a glance over his shoulder at Bruce. "And that's what this family is about! We never leave a man behind! If I had the kryptonite right now, I'd open the box and land you on your super-ass! But we don't. Dick's got it, another reason he needs to be found!"

Batman stepped up behind Jason and gripped his shoulder with a big hand. "You have our answer. We never leave one of our own behind. You'll have to solve this one yourselves."

With angry faces, Wonder Woman and Superman left the batcave silently. Batman, hand still on Jason's shoulder, moved around to face him. "Did you mean that?"

"Hell yeah, I meant it!" Jason said, cheeks flushing. "Look, Grayson's really a pain, y'know, always hugging and cheerful, but he's OUR pain in the ass! And I'll be damned if I let those stuck up pr..." Catching sight of Alfred's expression, Jason quickly changed what he was about to say. "Those stuck up idiots leave Dick in trouble, just because his identity's been outed!"

"I'm glad you feel that way," Batman said, Tim, Barbara and Alfred all drawing nearer. "Our strength has always been in our unity as a team and we definitely need it now. Barbara, I'd like you to examine the film of Dick supposedly killing Harvey Dent. Use your magic on the film and tell me what really happened."

"I have an idea," Jason said. "If Thomas Wayne is Owlman, maybe he was in with the Court of Owls in his Gotham. He might have made contacts in this Gotham too."

Batman nodded. "Good thought. You and Tim follow up on any new locations the Court might have established. Do not engage, I repeat, do NOT engage unless I am there with you."

"And you sir?" Alfred asked.

Batman gave him a pained smile. "I'll be looking into their old haunts." 

* * *

><p>The Aerie<p>

Dick rose to the surface, smiling. He knew that he'd always been a tactile kid. Thomas' hugs had been rare, but his mentor's ready affection had been a mainstay in his life. His blurry eyes began to clear and he saw Alfred move to unhook the iv. But something wasn't right...

"Alfie? When did you get green hair? and your skin is so white?" Dick focused on the butler's face and became concerned. "What happened? Has the Joker done something to you?" He tried to sit up. He needed to call Thomas and get Alfred some antidote, fast, if he'd been hit with Joker poison. "Thomas! We need you! Something's happened to Alfred!"

Thomas came running, only to find Alfred trying in vain to restrain Dick in his medical bed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I woke the lad for his next exercise period and he commented on my appearance..." Alfred said ruefully.

Thomas nodded. "Double his dose and put him back under. He's showing too much critical thinking." He bent over the still-struggling Dick. "It's okay, Richard. This is a hallucination, caused by Batman's drugs leaving your system. We'll just give you a boost of antidote and you'll feel much better soon."

Dick obediently lay back down with a smile on his lips. "Thanks, Thomas. I was really worried for a moment there that the Joker had broken in and poisoned Alfie."

"All will be well again when you wake," Alfred said soothingly, injecting a full syringe into the IV port.

"Good," Dick murmured. "Green isn't your color..."


	24. Alfred Again

Note: Sorry about the long delay but RL has sped up and this has sat in rough draft for a while. I finally had time to finalize the chapter. I'll try to get the next one out next weekend if I can. Thank you for your patience!

CHAPTER 24

The Batcave

Alfred waited for the rest of the family to disperse, then pulled Batman aside.

"I know that you're concerned about the boy, sir. But I've never known you to be this rude to Master Kent and Ms. Prince."

"I don't have time for this," Batman pushed Alfred aside and went back to his seat at the computer. "We have to find Dick. I'm loading every known location for the Court of Owls onto a map of Gotham for the most efficient search. I'll load it into the team GPS system." He began typing, having clearly dismissed his butler, then queued up the database of closed circuit camera tapes, taken from private cameras throughout the city.

Alfred was silent for a moment, then, with a grim look said gently, "I know that you are afraid that Owlman has hurt or killed Master Dick..."

Batman interrupted, turning in his chair and pulling back his cowl, revealing a face, sagging with worry. "I'm not afraid he's dead, Alfred. Thomas won't kill Dick. He's still mourning his own Dick Grayson." Bruce rubbed at his eyes, red with strain. He paused to take in a long shaking breath. "Do you remember those first two years we had Dick with us?"

Alfred smiled, remembering. "Yes, I do. It was like having a small, active tornado in the house."

Bruce smiled back. "Yes, he was everywhere. And everywhere he was, he brought light and life. And every day of those early years, I was terrified to the roots of my soul. I had the same nightmare every night." He focused his gaze on the floor, remembering.

"I understand, sir," Alfred said. "I know that you were always concerned for Robin's safety."

Bruce shook his head. "When he became Robin, I was worried about his safety of course. But I knew that he'd been well-trained and that I would be with him on the streets." He paused, remembering. "I had some control over Robin's well-being when we patrolled Gotham. But there was one thing that I had no control over. Since Dick wasn't my blood relative, I was terrified that some member of his family would show up and demand him back. Every night, I'd dream that somehow Dick would be taken from me, by court or by a long-lost relation. By that time, losing him would have torn my soul apart." He shifted in his chair. "As it was, I had to fight for his custody in court more than once."

Alfred crouched down beside him, as he'd often done with Bruce the boy, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But you haven't lost him, sir. We will get him back. He has always been your son and has wanted to be nothing else."

"Will we get him back?" Bruce replied sadly. "I understand Thomas' motivations. He values family as much as I do. In his place, I would make absolutely sure that Dick was loyal only to me and would reject any other allegiance. Thomas must know by now that simple persuasion won't compel Dick's trust, and neither will threats. Anyone without scruples knows that there is a third way."

"Some kind of brainwashing?" Alfred asked.

"Yes. And he's had Dick long enough for that. Owlman hasn't been seen anywhere in Gotham since Dick was taken, nor have there been any sightings of the new Talon. They're hidden away, somewhere without distractions. If our boy is anything like Talon, then Thomas knows all of Dick's weaknesses and his strengths. Most of all, he knows that once Dick's love is given, he never swerves, never gives in. That makes me very afraid, Alfred. We might rescue Dick's body, but who will he be inside?"

That Night

Bruce made his way upstairs to his bedroom suite. His mind was buzzing with all the things that might be happening to his son. He had scoured all of the Court's haunts in Gotham and found nothing but dust and cobwebs. But Alfred had been very succinct about Superman and Diana; he owed them an apology. He picked up his special phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?" the other voice sounded wide awake. Of course, Clark didn't need to sleep like humans did, even at 3:00 a.m.

"Clark? Look, I...I was pretty brusque with you and Diana today," Bruce said. "I can't be there, but I do have an idea for a trap to bring Ultraman in."

"Have you found Dick yet?" Clark asked.

"No," Bruce said, sinking onto the bed. "And we have no clues. It's like he's just disappeared." He rubbed a hand across his face. "But you have something just as important to take care of. Look, if you can get your hands on Superwoman, she can draw him in. I think they're a couple..."

"Oh, I've got better than that," Clark said. "She came to us, told us she was pregnant and wanted us to protect her from Ultraman. Looks like the baby could have been fathered by Thomas Wayne or by Ultraman. She knows that if Ultraman finds out, he'll kill her."

"Good idea," Bruce said, alerting. "By the way, I have my supply of bat-signals stored in the basement of the Wayne Building, here in Gotham. I can send one of the boys to help you take a load. Focus them on Ultraman and he can't stand against you."

"That's a great idea, Bruce. Here I was planning on buying klieg lights, but that takes time. I should have known you'd have a cache of them. Can I stop by tomorrow?"

"Fine, I'll have Tim show you where they are. And Clark? I'm sorry I lost focus for a while..." the words left his mouth hesitantly, but he knew that he'd been wrong.

"No apology necessary, Bruce," Clark's voice was warm. "I'm worried about Dick, too. I'd be there helping you if I didn't have this on my plate. I hope you find him soon."

"Thanks, Clark," Bruce said. "I hope so, too. Let me know how it goes, will you?"

"Count on it. You sound tired, you should get some sleep. Approach the problem fresh in the morning," Clark said.

"I'll do that. Good bye Clark," Bruce said and put the phone down. He turned out the light and resolved at least to try to get some sleep. But he knew that the old nightmare was waiting for him, just as it had been every night since he'd seen Dick on television, captured by the Crime Syndicate.

Two Days Later

"Hah!" Batgirl let out a chortle and grabbed a paper from the printer. "He didn't kill Harvey Dent!"

Batman went over and took the paper, reading it through bleary eyes. "The coroner's report...good. I've been waiting for this. Dent's neck wasn't broken and he didn't die of blunt force trauma...he was...poisoned?" Batman stood, the paper dangling from his fingers. This put a different cast on things.

"You told me to go over the film and I did: frame by frame and I found it," Batgirl gestured for Batman to watch the screen. "The footage used by the media was taken from one closed circuit camera, but I found a different one with a better picture. Now watch." She queued it up and the video slowly showed the altercation between Talon and Dent. "Okay, Dick hits him and Harvey hits the railing and lands on the decking. Then Owlman comes over and begins to slip his hand behind Harvey's neck...and...see!" She paused it.

They both saw a flash of sunlight reflected from something on Owlman's finger. "A ring? No, it's a ring with a needle on it," Batman exclaimed.

"Now, watch," Barbara said, running the film again. Slowly, Owlman slid his hand behind Dent's neck, pressing firmly. "That's the carotid artery. The drug stopped Two-Face's heart."

Batman felt his body awash with relief. "Dick didn't kill him, then. Thomas made sure that Dick thought he was a murderer."

"Owlman has to know how deeply engrained your 'no-kill' policy is in anyone you've trained," Barbara said and smiled crookedly. "Even Jason knew that the best way to demonstrate his rebellion against you was to kill."

"Damn!" Batman muttered, looking at the film. "I was right. Thomas didn't waste any time trying to get into Dick's mind."

Five Days Later

The team meeting, over dinner upstairs in the dining room, was glum. They had all showered and dressed because...well, because Alfred expected it and had told them so. Even Bruce had shaved, for the first time in five days and unwillingly took his place at the head of the table.

Alfred brought the first course and noisily dropped his platter on the center of the mahogany table. All four of the chairs' occupants started at the sound, looking around white-eyed at the butler.

"He is still alive," Alfred said crisply. "The fact that you cannot locate Master Dick does not mean that he is dead. Now, lady," he nodded towards Barbara. "And gentlemen, I expect you to do justice to the steaks I have prepared for you. I also expect you," now he met Bruce's gaze. "to eat a full meal for once. I expect all of your plates to be clean after you to have eaten the bulk of the food I have served you. You have all been living on sports beverages and stale sandwiches for the better part of the week, when you bothered to eat at all. Now is the time for you to rest and regroup." Alfred folded his arms across his chest and stood back, watching them. "You may serve yourselves, family-style," he added. "Go on!"

Slowly, Bruce reluctantly took a steak and handed the platter to Barbara, who dropped a small filet mignon onto her plate. Glancing at Alfred, Tim and Jason did the same. The potatoes and vegetables were similarly passed. Once the family had begun to eat, Alfred poured wine into each glass, carefully monitoring each person's intake.

"Well, then," Alfred said. "I will take my leave. I also expect you to forego patrol tonight...ah!" he lifted a finger at the rebellious looks around the table. "You may continue your search tomorrow, but tonight I suggest, _strongly,_ that you rest and regroup." He glanced at each person in turn, waiting for more disagreement before he nodded his head and left the room.

"What would he do to us if we just ignored him?" Tim asked, dolefully munching on a carrot.

"Probably hit us with a shot of sedative," Bruce replied glumly. "Whenever I skip a couple of nights' sleep, I suddenly find myself resting, whether I intend to or not. Or he could have already drugged us to make us sleep..." With that, each person poked at the food on their plates suspiciously.

"Probably the mashed potatoes," Jason said. "He knows how much we like 'em."

"Nah, it's the mushroom gravy," Tim replied.

"Doesn't matter," Barbara sighed. "He'll have spread it throughout the food to catch each of us. This isn't the time to piss off Alfred, anyway."

"Why, Batgirl," Jason smirked. "You cuss? I thought that you were a lady?"

"You'll see what kind of a lady I'll be when we catch up to Owlman," Barbara said, sawing at her steak with gusto.

"I agree with Alfred," Bruce said, forcing them to silence. "We're tired and we're spent. None of the Court of Owls sites have turned up anything. Jason's informants have come up dry. Nobody has seen Owlman in seven days. I don't know what he's doing, but I don't like it."

"Well, at least the League put away Ultraman," Tim said then stopped, seeing the looks on the others' faces. "Hey, it's not like we haven't been busting our butts to find Dick in all this time! At least we know where he isn't."

"And the information you gave Superman about the bright lights was instrumental in bringing Ultraman down at last," Barbara said, trying to smooth things over. "It's just too bad that he doesn't know where Owlman has gone to ground."

Bruce just nodded and applied himself to his dinner. It tasted dry as dust in his mouth but he knew that he had to stay nourished if he wanted to take Owlman apart when he finally did locate him. Alfred was right. They had been circling the same locations, the same informants and it had brought them nothing of use. Dick had been in Owlman's hands for more than a week. If...WHEN...they rescued him, who would they bring home?

The Next Morning

The Aerie

"Richard?"

The familiar voice brought a smile to Dick Grayson's face. He peeled open his eyelids and found Thomas Wayne smiling back from an easy chair. For a wonder, he was in an actual bed again.

"No medical bed this time?" He murmured drowsily and lifted his arm. The ever-present IV was gone. "You done?"

"We're done for now," Thomas replied. "You need some time to let this round of treatment settle in." He smiled and gave Dick his hand to help him off the bed. "In the meantime, I don't see why you can't have freedom of the building."

Dick dressed in the clothing Thomas provided, all of the best quality and fitting perfectly. Thomas had always had an eye, he mused. Afterwards, Thomas took him through the building itself. The Aerie, as Thomas called it, had been constructed over a hundred years ago and was called the Eagle Building. Vaguely, Dick thought he should know where it was but dismissed the idea. His own memories of the other Gotham were immaterial now that he was on a different Earth.

Listening intently, he followed Thomas through the building as Thomas told him the history of the Court of Owls on this Earth.

The Batcave

Still nothing on Dick. Bruce had begun to wonder when it would be appropriate to give in to despair. He had sent each of the team members to their own homes to rest after they came in from patrol. Somehow they had to come up with new theories, new ideas in the search. He knew one thing for certain, though. He wasn't going to give up.

The telephone at his elbow rang. This was the special line, known only to Batman's allies and family. Probably Clark.

"Batman," he said crisply.

"Batman! Bruce..." a breathless voice said to him. Dick? It was Dick!

"Dick! Where are you? Are you okay?" Batman hit a button to trace the call.

"Can't talk long. Thomas is giving me a tour of Owl HQ, but I slipped away. I'm in the Eagle Building. He thinks he's got me brainwashed but I'm not. Get me out of here! Please! Uh..."

Batman heard Thomas' voice in the distance, then the line clicked off and there was nothing but dialtone.


	25. Reunion

CHAPTER 25

The Batcave

Batman put down the phone, his face stony. At last there was some action he could take. He turned towards the batmobile, only to see Jason and Tim parking their motorcycles.

Both young men caught the expression on Batman's face as he ran to the car.

"Hey! What's going on?" Tim shouted and leapt off his cycle, running after Batman. The boy cornered his mentor at the driver's door. "You have a lead?"

"Yes," Batman said curtly and shoved Tim to one side, flinging the door open.

"We'll back you up!" Jason, scrambling after Tim, thumped a fist on the side of the car. "Where do we go?"

Not now...Not now! "You will _not _follow me. You will stay here, in the batcave until I...we...get back. Do you understand?" He growled at them both, noting the rebellion brewing by both their expressions and their stance of their bodies.

"We're coming with you," Tim shouted back. "He's our family, too! We're a team, remember?"

"No, you're not," Batman insisted, wishing he could, just once, train a Robin who obeyed orders. "I told you, Owlman is dangerous. He is my counterpart on the other Earth! I don't want him getting his hands on either of you. It's bad enough that he's had...I have to go!" Batman slammed the door shut and gunned the engine. Both Tim and Jason moved fast to avoid being hit and watched the car scream out of the cave.

Tim and Jason didn't need to communicate on this one. Each ran for his motorcycle and raced out of the cave, following the batmobile.

A mile down the road, Batman confirmed what he had suspected. They were both following him. He sighed, wishing that his sons would listen, but proud of them just the same. He squared his shoulders and began to drive erratically. He would just lose them on the way.

"Batman! Don't do this!" Tim's voice rang in his ears. "If he's that dangerous, you need us as backup. Who's going to take care of Dick while you're fighting Owlman? For all we know, he's been torturing Dick all this time and he'll need medical care."

"Yeah," Jason chimed in over the comms. "And what about that weird butler? You think he can't fight? Our Alfred is dangerous in a fight, and I'd bet that Owlman's Alfred is even worse. You're lowering Dick's chances by trying to lose us!"

Batman shook his head. They were persuasive, but he knew what Owlman was likely to do to any hostage that wasn't Dick Grayson. "No. And that's an order!" he barked back over the comm and hit a button. The radio cut off and he felt the lift as the batmobile became airborne. The boys and their motorcycles came to a stop below. Good thing he'd never outfitted them for flight. He smiled tightly and banked to the left, flying into the night.

* * *

><p>Tim and Jason stood in the dark, staring into the distance with mouths hanging open.<p>

"Well, shit!" Jason said.

Tim smiled a little bit and opened his comm. "Batgirl? You there?"

"I have you loud and clear, Red Robin. What's up?" Barbara Gordon's voice came through loudly.

"Do you have Batman on your scope?" Tim asked. Jason eyed him, spotting a slightly smug expression on the boy's face. What the...?

"No, I don't. He must have shut his tracer off," Batgirl replied, irritation in her voice. "That means something is about to break and he doesn't want us involved."

"Got that right," Tim said. "Go to channel two and see what you have."

A laugh broke over the airwaves. "Ha! Got him!"

Understanding dawned and Jason grinned at Tim. "Replacement, you are a sneaky little weasel! You bugged his car! I'm beginning to think that you'll do after all."

"Glad you think so," Tim bit back a sarcastic remark, reflecting that, for Jason this was a compliment. "He's ditched me too many times in the past and after all those warnings about Owlman, I had a feeling he'd try it this time too."

"Heh. Well, in my day the batmobile didn't fly, so I just had to tail him on my own," Jason said and grabbed Tim's wrist. "So, what's our course, Batgirl?"

"Looks like Old Gotham, near Front Street...he's landed between the Epsilon Building and the Eagle Building. You didn't put anything actually on him, did you RR?" Barbara asked breathlessly. They heard the sound of her motorcycle engine starting.

"Couldn't," Tim said. "I couldn't get close enough. Think we'll need backup?"

"We can do this on our own," Jason said, donning his red mask. "There's just one bad guy."

"Not so fast, Jason," Batgirl answered. "We don't know whose side Dick is on. We might have to fight him."

"Yeah, and he won't be pulling any punches," Tim added.

"Okay, okay, if you want backup, you go ahead and call whoever you want to this party." Jason said. "I'll have it all taken care of by the time you get there!" With that he gunned his engine and flipped off his radio.

"Dammit! I hate when he does that! Jason may be back but he's just as much an *sshole as he ever was!" Tim spat and gunned his own engine.

* * *

><p>Eagle Building<p>

Batman smiled as he left his young partners behind. He hated to frustrate them, but this had always been his mission and his alone. He frowned, remembering the boy he'd raised into a strong, intelligent and well-adjusted man. Dick was everything that Bruce could never be and he was grateful for it. Dick shouldn't live under a cloud like Bruce had, and he'd taken care to make sure that the boy had people, good people, in his life. Dick trusted easily, as Bruce never could.

Batman breathed out a long sigh. 'Trust no one' had been his motto for so long, along with 'Make no connections'. The only people he would trust unreservedly he could number on one hand: Alfred, Kent, Diana and Dick himself. Tim and Damian, no...only Tim now, had a high degree of his trust, but always within limits; he was too young and fragile to be risked. Jason? Yes, but within stricter limits. Jason himself needed be confident in his own redemption before Bruce could rely on him fully.

But Dick...? Owlman had begun working to suborn him the minute they met. The trouble was, Owlman's emotions for Dick were real. That interior truth salted the lie and made it believable. Dick would see the genuine feelings in Owlman and might...might be coaxed into believing him...under the right circumstances. If Owlman's training had been even half as rigorous as Batman's, he would know that the best deception was rooted in truth.

Another reason he'd left the boys behind? Nobody could know what state Dick Grayson was in at the present time. If Dick had become an enemy, it was Batman's responsibility to take him down and nobody else's. He would not allow either of Dick's brothers to hurt him, nor would Dick be responsible for the death of Tim or Jason or, God forbid, Barbara! Whenever Dick recovered, he would never forgive himself for having killed a loved one. And if Dick was himself, he'd be grateful not to be endangering anyone he loved.

He didn't want to admit to himself the primary reason he was handling this alone. He'd had a feeling, something in the air, that tonight was different. He had dismissed it as his imagination, but all his life he'd known that the only person who had a reasonable chance of killing the Batman was Dick Grayson. Even to defend his own life, he could never kill his first and oldest son. The years of trust and yes...love...meant that Dick himself occupied a sizeable part of his heart. In the silence of his own mind, Batman admitted to himself that Dick was the perfect weapon against him.

Of all things, Owlman would know that and use it against him.

Gotham's Old Town drew closer and he spotted the Eagle Building. Landing on the rooftop would let everyone in the neighborhood know that the Batman had arrived. Despite his sense of urgency, he settled the car down on the roof of a neighboring building, parking it in shadow. Now to business!

Stealthily, Batman moved from shadow to shadow. He had worked his way through the building, finding nobody there. The building was empty, even of furniture. At the floor just below the penthouse he stopped and checked his weaponry again. Owlman was waiting and he was ready.

He slipped through the door, finding himself in a large dark room with only a puddle of light in the center. A chair, and on it slumped familiar figure in unusual clothing. Dick's hands were behind the chair back, shoulders pulled tight. He was dressed in the uniform of a talon, except that he wore no mask at all. Was he conscious? They were being watched, of that he was certain.

He crept closer, keeping his eyes away from the light so that he could peer into the shadows for Owlman. Nothing. He glanced up and saw, next to the overhead light, a camera trained down at Dick.

A good ten feet from his son, Batman stopped. "Dick! Dick? Can you hear me?"

Dick's body jerked and his head lifted slowly. His body trembled as he squinted into the darkness. "Batman?" he called out hoarsely. "Is that really you? My God, tell me it's really you and I'm not hallucinating this!"

His voice sounded so young and frightened that Batman was forced to remember just how young Dick still was, and how much had happened to him since the crime syndicate had arrived. He broke into a run, slowing when the light caught him. Dick could still be booby-trapped.

"I'm here," Batman said, remembering all the times he'd said it to a young, frightened Robin, then to Nightwing. "It's okay. I'm here." He approached Dick slowly. His boy's face was pale and sweaty. He was thin and it didn't look like he'd seen the sun recently. In the harsh light, his deep blue eyes glittered.

As though he were gentling a colt, Batman kept his voice and his stance low. "Is there anyone guarding you? Where is Owlman?" He moved to within a few feet of his former partner. "How about I untie you?"

He was moving around the chair when abruptly Dick shot to his feet and grabbed the chair by the back and swung it at Batman's head. But his target wasn't there, he'd landed six feet away and faced Dick in a defensive stance.

"Dick! It's me, remember?" Batman asked urgently. "Whatever Owlman has told you, it's all a lie!"

Dick laughed and plucked two handfuls of tiny knives from the bandoliers on his costume. "Owlman is my partner and always has been! He told me what happened to your Dick Grayson and how you've been trying make me replace him. Now I can get some revenge for myself!" As Batman tried to evade, he tossed them one by one, just missing him.

"Dick, listen to me," Batman called to him. "Owlman has had you under his control for weeks! Don't you remember growing up at Wayne Manor? You must remember something."

"Oh, I remember Wayne Manor, all right," Dick grinned and threw more knives. His aim was getting better. Batman ducked and dived to avoid them. "Owlman took me in after my parents were killed. I've been his partner since I was nine years old. He and Alfred are my family" Dick stopped in a crouch and charged Batman. "I killed my first six men when I was ten and I've lost count of how many I've done since. I don't want to sit on your death row because I took out Harvey Dent too!"

Batman began to retaliate, returning fire in batarangs. He watched with pride and frustration as Dick dodged them all. "You didn't kill Harvey Dent! Owlman did. After Dent hit the fencing, Owlman put a hand on Dent's neck. He injected a curare-based poison! Dent died of suffocation when his lungs became paralyzed! They found the wound and a tox-screen turned up the drug!" Batman danced out of the way as more tiny knives materialized in the wall beside him.

"Haven't you even asked yourself why your aim is so good with a batarang but not with those knives?" Batman somersaulted over the boy, aiming a kick at his right shoulder. Dick ducked and grabbed where he'd been hit.

"My aim is bad because you held me for months!" Dick shouted in anger. "You made me learn how to use your toys! Owlman was searching for me the entire time I believed I was _your_ son!"

"You are my son!" Batman returned and noted that this flight of knives went even farther afield. "And no father was ever prouder of his child than I am of you!" Trying not to hurt him, Batman flipped again to face Dick. "Search your memories of that other Earth. You'll find nothing but holes!"

"You...!" Dick was trembling now, his face red with rage.

"Not me," Batman said firmly. "Owlman has drugged you and given you new memories. What does your gut tell you, Dick? You've always been the intuitive one. Inside, you know the truth!"

"The truth?" Dick said in a near whisper. "The truth is that I want to go HOME!" With that, he pulled a large knife from his bandolier and threw it with deadly accuracy. He was too fast for Batman. The knife embedded itself in Batman's armpit, where the pieces of body armor were separated for ease of movement. Batman went down, trying to pull the blade out.

Dick landed atop him and stabbed it in even further. As the blood flowed, Dick grinned, blood spattering his teeth. "And my name isn't 'Dick'! It's Richard. Richard Grayson, also known as Talon!" He looked over into the shadows. "See, Thomas! I did it! I killed Batman!"


	26. Uneasy

Author's note: This chapter is for Ellen, who hates cliff-hangers :) And just a reminder to the readers, I love to hear from you! Please review! And Happy Thanksgiving to all of you.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 26<p>

The Eagle Building

(The Aerie)

"Owlman?" Talon called a second time, twisting around to find the location of the scuffling noises off to the side. Owlman was struggling with two assailants and one was a girl! The boy must be Tim Drake, also known as Red Robin. And the girl was...beautiful. She had long red hair, a great body in a skin-tight suit and she was fighting with skill and daring. She must be...must be...he cast his memory back to recall Owlman telling him about Batgirl, aka Barbara Gordon.' A vague memory of a girl dressed like this one flitted through his mind, only she was smiling at him and he knew that he had been smiling back. Couldn't be...He'd never met a 'batgirl', although he Gordon's daughter had been an acquaintance of his on the other Earth. He shook his head to clear it. For some reason he felt fuzzy and uncoordinated tonight.

"Nghhhhhhhhh..." A groan from beneath him drew his attention. So, he wasn't dead yet. Give it time.

"So, Batman, aren't you sorry you tried to steal me away from Owlman?" Talon asked with a smirk.

"No. I'm not," the injured man breathed. "I don't regret trying to save Dick Grayson, the boy I raised. I'm not sorry I tried to rescue _you_."

Talon felt something uncomfortable roiling deep inside; some kind of emotion he couldn't identify. "Well, you're wrong!" he said with bravado. "You didn't raise me, Thomas Wayne did and I'm loyal to him."

"You've always been loyal, Dick," Batman whispered. "I'm proud of you..Always have been proud of you..." His breath trailed off. He was silent, struggling to breathe.

Irritation warred with a kind of panic inside Talon. "Stop that!" he said sharply. "You don't know me! You never have known me and I'm not your Dick Grayson!"

Batman's eyes opened again behind the semi-opaque eyelets of his mask. And he smiled a smile so full of love and acceptance that Talon's panic could only grow. He climbed off the Batman's soon to be deceased body, staring down at him. But before any word could leave Talon's lips, Batman himself forced a shout.

"Hood! No! Don't kill!" Batman gasped out, addressing someone behind Talon and over his head. Talon looked behind him to see a man dressed in a full face red mask sitting on a rafter near the skylight, pointing a pistol at Talon's back. Red Hood. That had to be Red Hood. Talon was proud that he remembered the entire briefing Owlman had given him.

"No...killing...!" Batman wheezed.

Red Hood said "Shit! You really have gone round the bend, haven't you Dick?" He leapt down from his perch, straight for Talon.

Afterwards, Talon blamed his long hesitation on the aftereffects of the drugs Owlman had given him to clear his system. Certainly it wasn't because he had any feelings for this strange man diving at him. In any case, Red Hood plowed into Talon's chest feet first, knocking him off the prone and bleeding Batman. Talon scrambled to his feet, ready to fight Red Hood, only to find that the battle was already over. Red Hood held a spray to his face and smiled. " G'night Dick," he said and sprayed it into Talon's face.

When he woke, this time it was Talon on the floor with Red Hood had just finished tying his wrists behind his back; his legs and ankles were already trussed up. A quick look to the side showed Owlman similarly restrained with the beautiful 'bat girl' finishing the job.

The other one, the young boy, Red Robin had gone over to Batman and was taping a thick pad of bandage around the protruding knife.

Talon's stomach inexplicably lifted when he saw that the blood was still flowing. Batman wasn't dead. He'd failed. He closed his eyes, wondering why he wasn't more upset. Killing Batman had always been the plan. By killing his kidnapper, Talon would be revenged on the man and also demonstrate his renewed loyalty to Owlman. He tried his bonds without success. They had him hogtied. What had happened to Thomas? He didn't see Alfred anywhere. Maybe their butler had escaped and could free them?

"Has anybody heard from Agent 'A'?" Red Robin asked. "I'm about done here."

"Now we've got Owlman, what do we do with him? Leave him for the GCPD?"

"No," Batman whispered. "Bring him...to cave...with Dick..."

"We've got to get Batman out of here, right now," Red Robin said, wiping blood off his hands with a cloth. "He's lost a lot of blood and we don't know how deep his wound is."

"Okay," Red Hood said. "I'll carry Batman while and you two get Dick. Wish I knew what happened to Al...I mean, Agent 'A'...and that weird butler of Owlman's." He got up and went over to Batman. "When you said you were calling backup, Batgirl, I was thinking Superman or Wonder Woman or somebody."

"And quite properly, she called on me, young sir," a crisp British voice rang from the back of the room. Alfred limped forward, dragging Owlman's unconscious Pennyworth, bound the same way as his master and Talon. "If you will give me a moment, I will bring some modes of transport." Dumping the evil butler, Alfred faded into the darkness and they heard a door close.

"We didn't know what Dick's condition would be," Batgirl explained tiredly. "We needed a medical expert, not more firepower. I knew that among us, we could handle it. As it turns out, it was the right call."

A few minutes later, Alfred returned with a fully unfolded wheeled gurney with two portables stacked on top. "Load up Batman and Master Dick as well as Owlman. Take them to the ground floor and you will find two of our 'ambulances' parked nearby."

"Is he good, or what?" Tim muttered with a grin as they put the three onto the gurneys, Owlman and Talon strapped down extra tight. Jason slung the butler over his shoulder in a fireman's carry for the ride downstairs.

The ride gave no trouble since Owlman, Talon and Pennyworth were all well-dosed with sleeping gas. Alfred hooked Batman up with an IV and oxygen mask, leaving Tim to drive.

"Alfred," Batman murmured. "Good job."

"Thank you, sir," Alfred said. "Your supposition was correct. Owlman was er...hanging...in the wings, waiting to see whether his protégé would remain loyal. I have already called Dr. Thompkins. She will be waiting for us in the cave. While your wound is serious enough, it didn't reach your heart so far as I can see. You'll survive this yet."

"...hurts enough..." Batman said and sighed. "Dick got me...right where the kevlar ends...Knew the suit's weakness."

"It remains to be seen whether Owlman instructed him on where to strike or he planned it himself," Alfred replied reassuringly. "Have faith in the boy you raised, sir. I do."

"I do, too, old friend," Batman murmured and closed his eyes. 

* * *

><p>Batcave<p>

Room 1A

Talon woke on a bunk in a brightly lit room. He felt strangely cool and realized that his mask was gone, as were his suit and boots. He had been dressed in hospital scrub-style pants and nothing else. His eyes narrowed. These people were smart enough to know that lots of weapons could be hidden inside seams. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, he looked around, scanning his surroundings.

There was no window. The walls seemed to be made of stone, buffed smooth, as was the floor. A small vent, the size of a deck of cards, allowed air into the room. The light itself...He studied the ceiling closely. Chemical panels illuminated the room. No access to electrical wiring or air conditioning ducts. A small metal toilet and shower occupied the corner with a drain hole to let the shower water out. No privacy screen. He swung around. The room had a single door with a recessed lens above it. He was being watched.

"Where is Owlman? What have you done with him?" Talon demanded, glaring into the camera. "Is he all right?" 

* * *

><p>Main Cave<p>

In a different room, Alfred turned from the monitor with a sigh. "Regardless of his loyalties, he is still our Dick Grayson, thinking of others before himself."

"How are we going to bring him back to himself, Alfred?" Barbara Gordon, now dressed in civvies, asked. "Can we counter the drugs they gave him?"

"That remains to be seen," Alfred replied. "Neither Master Timothy nor I recognize the chemicals we found in Master Dick's blood sample. I have left a message for Barry Allan. Hopefully, he can determine what the concoction is and counter it."

Alfred stepped away from the display and Barbara took over the surveillance of their captives.

"What do you think, sir?" Alfred asked as he sat beside Batman's hospital bed, well within sight of the monitor array.

Bruce lay back in bed with a crooked smile on his face. "He didn't kill me, Alfred. He couldn't."

"What do you mean, sir?" Alfred asked. "Leslie said that the stiletto just missed your heart. It punctured your lung!"

"That's the point," Batman replied, smile growing to as near a grin as he was capable of . "First, he used a stiletto, a long, narrow, thin knife. He had to be precise to kill me and precision isn't anything Dick has ever lacked. Instead, he carefully inserted the knife in such a way that he avoided more than clipping my lung and missed my heart entirely. Oh," Bruce raised his right hand. "He thought he was killing me, or the constructed personality did. But deep down inside, our boy is still there, Alfred. He's still in there!"

"Then how shall we...erm...extract our Dick Grayson from the Talon which Owlman has constructed?" Alfred asked.

"I have a few ideas, for both Owlman and Dick," Bruce said. 

* * *

><p>Room 1A<p>

Talon tried passing the time by doing exercises. He stretched every muscle, then he ran in place, then he ran through various katas. Just as his stomach began to rumble, a hatch in the door opened and a paper plate slid through onto the floor.

"Hey!" he said, putting on his best coaxing smile. "How about some company with the food?" He picked up the plate. "And don't I get a fork and knife?"

"Sorry, Dick," a young voice said. "You could do too much with cutlery, so it's finger food right now. And I'm not supposed to talk to you until you're better."

"Timothy? Um...Tim? Tim Drake?" Talon winced as he stumbled over the name Owlman had given him. "I can't hurt you, locked in here. And it's getting kind of lonely."

"Well, all right," the voice said. "But don't tell Batman I did this, okay? What do you want to talk about."

Talon found that the paper plate was full of stuffed mushrooms, his favorite. He started eating. "These mushrooms are wonderful! They're just like Alfred makes..."

"Yeah, our Alfred's a pretty good cook too," Tim answered. "So, Dick...You really don't remember any of us?"

"Sorry, Timbo," Talon paused. Now why did I call him that? That's weird. "Um...There's no reason I should. I was born on the other Earth and Thomas Wayne raised me after my parents died. Any memories I had of Batman or you are fakes that Batman planted."

"No, that's not what happened at all," Tim insisted. "And you call me 'Timbo' all the time, Dick, like you just did."

Talon's appetite went away. He put the plate down, his stomach churning with that panicky feeling again. "No. That's some residue of the false memories that Thomas tried to remove from me."

"Dick, if we showed you hard evidence that you belong here with us, would you believe us?" Tim asked quietly.

"You can't have hard evidence because there isn't any!" Talon insisted. "Anything you have is either faked or...or...is just photos or film of your Dick Grayson who died!"

"Our Dick Grayson isn't the one that died. He's very much alive and I'm talking to him now," Tim said. "If you're done with dinner, put your plate through the hatch and I'll take it away."

Silently Talon pushed the paper plate through the small opening. He tried to push his hand through after it. A warm hand, smaller than his own took his fingers and held them.

"Dick, please pull your hand back or I have orders to taser you," Tim said. Talon heard the taser turned on and quickly withdrew his hand. The hatch was slammed shut and locked down.


	27. Ties That Bind

Author's Note: I'd like to thank you all for your patience since my postings have become more spread out. There are a few reasons, first weight loss surgery and a long recovery, then a Christmas cruise to Hawaii, and also the nature of this story. The personalities of Batman, Owlman and Pennyworth are much more complex than they looked in the beginning as Bruce and Thomas fight for Dick's soul. It's complex enough that I want to do this right. Please be patient as it all plays out.

CHAPTER 27

Room 1A

Talon sat back down on his bunk. He'd examined the room thoroughly but didn't see a way out. That boy...Tim, was it? He'd been friendly. Maybe he could persuade Tim to let him out. Batman's aides had to know about what Batman had done to him and that he wasn't their Dick Grayson.

A sound startled him. What was that? The wall across from his bunk lit up, becoming a large square screen on which a slideshow of pictures began to appear. First, he saw his parents, performing. Then a young boy was added to the act. That was himself! Probably age four or so. Eagerly, he watched the pictures and in each one the young Dick Grayson was older and a more central part of the Flying Graysons' act.

He stood up and walked over to the screen, touching it gingerly with a finger. The surface was still stony. He turned around but couldn't see a projector. Somehow, they were projecting the pictures from behind the wall. The pictures sped up until a single photo faced him: the front page of the Gotham Gazette with a screaming headline "Aerialists Fall to Their Death at Charity Circus!" The central picture hit him like a kick to the gut. A young boy was crying in the arms of a man in a suit. It wasn't Thomas. Talon looked at the picture more closely. The caption said it was Bruce Wayne who had gone into the ring to support the boy. That wasn't what had happened. No, Thomas was there, not Bruce Wayne! And the paper, the Gotham Guardian had said, "Aerialists Killed in Deadly Drop!" He stared at the face of the boy in the photograph and his gut roiled again. He was just feeling sad for the other kid, that was all. Sympathy. Yeah. Thomas had told him already, lots of times, that softness would get him killed some day.

Clenching his teeth, he walled it off from his conscious mind, feeling his stomach churning even more. He ran his hand over the photo, blocking away the image.

"I don't believe you!" he shouted at the wall. "You're lying! You took home the other Dick Grayson, not me!" 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

In the control room, Batman turned to Alfred. "Telemetry?"

"Oh, the images are causing quite a physical reaction in him. Heart rate is up, blood pressure elevated, he's breathing faster, " Alfred said.

Batman smiled ironically. "Let's upset him some more. Roll the films and keep them running."

"Back to back, sir," Alfred hit a switch to begin a series of home movies and news reports documenting the life of Dick Grayson, ward of Billionaire Socialite, Bruce Wayne. "What do you plan next?"

Batman rose to his feet. "I think I'll have a talk with Thomas Wayne." 

* * *

><p>ROOM B-2<p>

The door to room B-2 opened and Batman strode in. Owlman shot to his feet in surprise. Thomas Wayne looked angry, but Batman's face was cold and still.

"Where is Talon? And where is Alfred?" Owlman said, fists clenching.

"Alfred is safe enough," Batman said tonelessly. "What chemicals did you give Dick Grayson?"

Owlman's face curled into a smile. "Who is Dick Grayson? My Talon is generally called Richard."

"Your 'Richard Grayson' died after he finally broke with you," Batman returned. "Superman and Wonder Woman had some interesting conversations with Ultraman. He told us what really happened to the Graysons. He also told us that later, when Richard grew up, he became friends with Barbara Gordon and her father the Commissioner. You orchestrated the fiery car crash that incinerated them both. Talon was getting too close to Barbara and you were afraid you'd lose him." Batman moved closer, voice gone to a whisper. "But what you can't seem to get through your head is that you had lost him anyway! It was inevitable that he'd find out what happened and turn on you!" Batman faced Owlman, a flicker of pity in his eye. 

* * *

><p>ROOM 1A<p>

Talon lay back on his bunk, stolidly determined not to watch the pictures on the wall. Then somebody turned on the sound. He heard a young boy giggle and the sound of paper being ripped. He opened an eye to watch the boy, Dick Grayson, _not me_, he insisted silently to himself open Christmas presents. Dick pulled more paper off a huge box, gleefully diving into it and pulling out a velvet tray. Inside the tray lay a dozen shiny batarangs, each enameled in a red and yellow "R". The boy whooped and tugged one out of it's nest, weighing it in his hand.

Bruce, grinning broadly, came into camera view. "These are lighter than the ones I use. After breakfast, I'll show you how to throw these. I had quite a time getting the balance right."

"I can throw 'em already, Bruce," the boy insisted and, ignoring Bruce's attempt to stop him, promptly threw one and cut the top of the Christmas tree off. Talon couldn't help but chuckle when the camera jerked and the boy and mentor both raced forward to keep the tree from falling over. The sound cut off as Bruce pulled Dick out from under the tree, the 'rang and the boy's hands all covered with pine sap...

Talon's thoughts broke off. How did he know that the boy called the batarang a 'rang? Thomas must have told him; yes, that was it. Funny, but he didn't remember the last Christmas he'd spent with Owlman. Did he buy Thomas any gifts? He must have, but he didn't remember. He also didn't remember Owlman buying anything for him. He didn't even remember the tree or the dinner that Alfred must have prepared. Owlman had taken him in when his parents were killed, true, but nothing had ever been done to formalize the relationship. Talon had always believed that Owlman had good reasons for not adopting him but now he wondered. On the screen, Bruce was helping Dick out from under the debris and, strangely, didn't seem angry at Dick's disobedience. He almost looked proud. The film cut off and moved into a series of still photos.

ROOM 1A-LATER

"Dick?" A soft female voice came from the hatch in the door.

Talon sat up on his bunk. Could that be the redhead he'd seen? The one who looked so much like...Barbara Gordon?

"I'm Richard," he answered, approaching the hatch.

"Don't tell Batman I'm here," she said, voice low. "I just had to see how you were."

"I'm fine," Talon said, injecting his voice with friendliness. Maybe this Barbara would like him as much as the last one did. A friend here would be good.

"Good...Look, I'm sorry you're locked down like this. Bruce insisted," she said. "We're trying to fight the drugs and bring your old memories back. Barry's been analyzing the chemicals and he's working on a treatment for you, so just...be patient."

"I can be patient if I get visitors like you, Barb," Talon began, then mentally kicked himself. Babs! That's what Dick Grayson called his girlfriend! Not 'Barb' like he'd called his own Barbara Gordon.

She was silent and he thought that she'd seen the deception and left. "Uh...Babs? You still there?" he asked, hesitantly.

"I'm here," she said promptly. "D'you remember how I used to skip ballet class to go rock climbing with you? Daddy got really mad when he found out. He thought rappelling down those cliff-faces was dangerous."

A dim memory of Barb and he, climbing the cliffs near Arkham Manor made him smile. "You were always more nimble than I was," he said. "Smaller feet."

"Yes, but you never knew that I was always fighting hard to keep up with you. I didn't want you to think I couldn't do it," she admitted.

"I've never thought that there was anything you couldn't do," Talon said quietly. "I'm just sorry that my Barbara died so young..."

"Dick, you're not the Richard Grayson that Owlman raised! You were raised here. With me!" Barbara insisted. "Your memories of the other place were planted."

"I wish..." Talon paused. He knew what he wished. He wished that the auto accident that had killed Barb Gordon and her father had never happened. Both Thomas and Alfred had been wonderful afterward, he'd cried on their shoulders and had been very touched at the beautiful memorial Thomas had had built for them.

"Barbara, I'm sorry," he said, longing to see her familiar face again. "My Barbara Gordon died when I was sixteen. There was a drunk driver...he hit their car and they both died in the fire. It's...it's great...to talk to another Barbara but I'll never forget my girl."

Barbara's voice grew even softer. "Dick, I shouldn't rush this but you have to know...You deserve to know this! Owlman arranged for Barbara and James Gordon to be murdered because Richard Grayson was getting too close to them. He was afraid he'd lose his power over his Talon, that his Richard Grayson would leave him for something better."

Talon felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He leaned against the door heavily. No. That couldn't be true! Thomas was his father in all but name. He'd raised him! It had to be a lie. "And where did you hear this?" he grated. "Did Bruce tell you this?" he snarled.

"No," she replied. "I saw the tapes of Ultraman's interrogation. Thomas Wayne murdered Talon's parents, too. He wanted Richard Grayson so badly, he'd kill anyone who got in the way."

"Why?" Talon said. "This is just another lie. Thomas is my...family. He loves me like a son or like a brother. He's told me so dozens of times."

"Love?" She said softly. "It's a twisted, sick kind of obsessive love, Dick. And it isn't you he's obsessed with, anyway. It's his own Richard Grayson, the one who turned away from him and died! Don't you see? He feels guilty that he's managed to kill the only person who really matters to him! He thinks that if he can somehow get you back, he can fix his mistake and do better this time! Make it up to his own Talon!"

"I am his Talon, and I have always been," Talon replied, voice wavering. "At least, Thomas has never tried to replace me with a juvenile duplicate!"

"Bruce isn't perfect," Barbara replied with a sigh. Dammit Bruce! "But he does love you and he never replaced you. You were growing up and needed to be independent, so he let you go. But he was lonely, so he adopted Jason. And you approved! You liked Jason so much, you gave him one of your old uniforms! You even helped to train him! And it was you, Dick Grayson, not somebody from a different Earth! The memories are there if you just try to find them! And...and I'm there too!"

"You? You were only ever a childhood friend," Talon said.

"No, I wasn't just a childhood friend, Dick," She said, voice very low. Talon leaned forward to hear her through the door. "A long time ago you asked me to marry you. While I was still paralyzed and in a wheelchair, you gave me a ring. I...um...I pushed you away when I got my legs back." She gave a low laugh. "I got my legs back and lost my mind. There's been nobody else since then, Dick." The hatch opened and a diamond ring on a chain slid through. "This is the ring you gave me. I'm still keeping it until the timing is right for us to marry."

Talon was momentarily speechless, unsure of just what he was hearing. He picked up the chain and watched the ring sparkle. It was beautiful, the kind of ring he would choose for a fiancée. Did this gorgeous woman actually love him? How could that be? His jaw slowly clenched and he dropped the chain. These people would stoop to anything to bring him around, offering sex as an inducement! Thomas was right. Batman and his gang were unscrupulous and couldn't be believed. He just wished he knew why Batman wanted him so badly when he clearly had so many would-be sidekicks. "Barbara," he said. "That was a nice try, but I'm not for sale! I loved my own Barbara Gordon, but she's gone. I'm not interested in a cheap copy!"

She didn't say anything more, although he thought he heard something that might have been a sob. They really were very good actors, he decided as he heard her footsteps move away from his door. 

* * *

><p>ROOM B-2<p>

"He's not yours," Batman said calmly. "He never was."

"He isn't yours, either," Owlman spat back. "Richard Grayson...has always been beyond your petty ambitions. Leave him with me and he will achieve his full potential. You! You keep him trailing in your wake. He waits for your call, anxious to serve and you have but to beckon him over and he leaps to do your least bidding." Owlman scowled under the heavy eyepieces of his mask. "When we came here, I studied you. My Alfred arrived first, he calls himself the Outsider. He gathered data that he brought back to me. I saw the shape of Richard's life with you! I deserve him and you don't! You have used him all his life; manipulated him for your own ridiculous 'mission'!"

Owlman got up off the bench and began to pace, always just out of the Bat's reach. "How many times have you endangered his life? How many wounds has he endured willingly for you? Broken bones? What the Injustice League did to him was nothing compared to the tortures he has experienced for your stupid mission! You've already lost TWO of your 'sons' to your ridiculous war on crime!" He stopped and drew a deep, shaking breath. "You ask him to jump and Richard only asks 'How high?'"

"He is loyal," Batman began but Owlman wasn't finished.

"He is loyal to a fault," Owlman agreed. "He's always been happy to stand in your shadow. And you were content to let him!" Owlman took off his mask, his blue eyes meeting Batman's behind the hero's protective white eyelets. "He deserves better and you know it."

Batman stilled, the import of Owlman's words striking too close to home. He pulled back his cowl, letting Thomas see his determination not to be moved. "He's always been happy in his role with me."

"No, he hasn't," Owlman insisted, pushing his advantage. "He's fought you, hasn't he? But you have never listened. He's ached for a word of praise from you and you have never supplied it. You never tell Richard that you are proud of him, do you? My Talon always knew where he stood with me," Owlman said proudly. "He is my family, the brother I should have had instead the puling Bruce Wayne I was given!" Owlman's eyes glittered, studying the Bruce Wayne who stood before him critically. "He's stronger than you are, you know. He is resilient. Where my Talon can sway with the winds, you are so rigid, you will always topple like an oak. When you finally go down, where will "Nightwing" be left?" He paced around Bruce Wayne, keeping always out of striking distance. "I'll tell you, brother, when you fail, Richard will be left alone facing the rage of your enemies because you made him so dependent on you!"

Bruce shook his head, barely holding onto his temper. "And what have you got to offer him? Blackgate Prison, maybe even Arkham. I know your history, too. You've always been a two-bit hustler," he growled. "I've jailed better thieves and extortionists than you will ever be. You may have convinced Dick somehow that he belongs with you, but we'll deprogram him. He will remember who he is and he'll be glad to return to his real family!"

Owlman's face took on a smug cast. "The drug Alfred used doesn't exist on this Earth. It contains compounds that stay in the brain tissue forever unless the antagonist is administered. Richard is my son now. Nothing you do will ever change that, Batman. Accept it." Owlman paused to let his words sink in. "And Bruce..."

"What?"

"Don't ever turn your back on him." 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

Leaning over the computer screen, Batman didn't know when he'd ever been this tired. The interview with Owlman had unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. "You have news for me?" Batman asked tersely.

Barry Allen stared out of the screen with bloodshot eyes. "Batman, the news isn't good on this end. I've been able to isolate the chemical in Dick's bloodstream. First, it didn't originate in this universe, although it has some near relatives here. I...uh...I don't know how to say this..." he faltered.

Batman bit down his impatience. "Just the facts, Allen. What did you find?"

Barry gulped. "A close cousin to what we call a prion. On our earth, prions are a mis-folded protein molecule that, when exposed to a human brain, causes diseases like Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy. It destroys brain tissues."

Batman paused, processing. "You mean, like mad cow disease?" His breath caught and he had to remind himself to breathe. "But you said it's a cousin to the prions we know, not the same thing. Can you cure it?"

"That's just it," Barry said miserably. "Give me twenty years and an unlimited budget and I might make some headway. Dick will be out of time long before then."

"Owlman would never have infected Dick with something like this knowingly," Batman growled. "Despite all his faults, Thomas Wayne genuinely mourns the loss of his Richard Grayson and...loves...Dick because of that." He had to think. "Keep working on it, Barry, and let me know if you make any progress. Batman out."

Only when he was certain that the screen was clear did Batman allow his knees to give way, landing in the desk chair with a thump. He rested his head in both his hands, eyes closed.


	28. Solomon's Decision

CHAPTER 38

ANOTHER EARTH, LONG AGO

Thomas Wayne watched the crowd scurry around the center ring with interest. His loyal butler, Alfred Pennyworth, slipped into a seat beside him, panting a little.

"The matter is taken care of?" Thomas asked, attention focused on the center ring.

"I took care of the wires myself and I've just come from Haley. I reiterated our position and the circus has already made up the late payments, with a substantial bonus. After the way the Graysons died, I don't think that Haley will refuse payment again."

Eyes never leaving the crying child in the center ring, Thomas nodded. "Good work, Alfred. Now, for the boy..."

"The boy?" Alfred's voice lifted in surprise. "What about him? An orphan's home, I had supposed. We get out best thieves from the two you have endowed."

Thomas' gaze remained the crying boy. How much the child reminded him of himself and yes, Bruce, at that age. Young Richard Grayson could even be a relative, he looked so much like a Wayne... "I think not. He has a rare talent, that one. I've often thought that he would make an excellent apprentice. I'd like to take him home."

Alfred was silent for a moment. He had learned long ago that his master, who believed himself to be a logical man, was actually quite emotional and impulsive. Swallowing the frustrated sigh that threatened to escape him, Alfred merely replied, "Shall I make the necessary calls?"

Thomas stood up, brushing the sawdust from his coat. "I'd appreciate it if you would." He made as if to go over to the child when Alfred laid a restraining hand on his arm. Thomas stared at the hand, unaccustomed to Alfred giving _him_ commands.

"Sir, you must consider what public opinion will say about your suddenly taking in a very...handsome...young boy into your home," Alfred said delicately. "The child isn't even a relative. The reporters will have a field day with it and your reputation..."

Thomas' eyes blazed. "Alfred, you know my appetites and that they do not extend towards children! I will probably never marry and endanger my secrets. Just the same, I'd like to have a son...or a little brother..." Thomas' attention returned to the boy. "Just to keep our options open, I'll simply be his guardian and not formally adopt him. Will that suit you?"

"It will have to, sir," Alfred said and stepped aside as Thomas moved quickly towards the center ring. Since Alfred had murdered Thomas' parents for him, it had only been the two of them, a team. He preferred not to enlarge the family, even if the boy was young and malleable. Just like raising kittens, children grew up, to become neither cute nor biddable. 

* * *

><p>ANOTHER EARTH, SOME YEARS LATER<p>

"Striking out against Commissioner Gordon and his daughter could bring unwelcome attention down upon us," Alfred pled desperately.

Thomas swirled the bourbon in his glass, then sipped. "I want her killed. We kill Gordon as well to cover up the real murder. He has dozens of enemies in Gotham, nobody will be looking at us."

"She's just a child, sir, and you know how temporary childhood friendships are," Alfred said. "And have you considered the effect on Talon? She is his best friend."

"And that is why she must go," Thomas replied stubbornly, chin poked out. "He spends all his spare time with her and not here in the cave. He has become slipshod and absent-minded, either of which could get him killed."

"Admit it, sir, you're jealous," Alfred said. "You've become so fond of him, you resent his other interests. You must allow the boy some normal social ties of his own. He will want to date girls and establish sexual relationships with them. He may even marry and start his own family."

"So long as I am first in his life, I have no quarrel with that. But Barbara Gordon is the Police Commissioner's daughter, making it more likely that he will let something slip and endanger our operation. Both Gordons go. See to it, Alfred," Thomas said, taking another sip.

Alfred's eyes hardened. "Very well, sir."

Alfred diligently set up the hit, using only the most reliable men. The accident occurred on a rainy night, leaving the Gordons' car a ball of fire. The driver, presumed drunk, got away and remained an infamous cold case in G.C.P.D.'s files.

Alfred himself had begun to ponder his life. His commitment to Thomas was, as always, absolute. He loved the man like a son, as perhaps he could be. Martha Wayne had had the morals of an alley cat, taking a wide variety of men into her bed, including that fascinating new British butler with the lovely accent. Coincidentally, Alfred had shared her bed about nine months before Thomas' birth, along with a gardener and Thomas Wayne senior himself. He'd never had the courage to actually test the DNA, deciding that it was just as well, given the differences in their stations in life.

But Richard presented a problem that Alfred had begun to be concerned about. Alfred had resolved to wait until Richard grew up and left home. Presumably, some time in his teens the boy would rebel and Master Thomas would recover from whatever feelings he'd conceived for the boy. Alfred had hoped that Richard would some day marry Barbara Gordon, probably against Thomas' wishes. On that day, Alfred would again be first in Thomas' life. Alas, not yet. Thomas remained committed to the boy. Alfred resolved to be patient and continue his surveillance of Talon. 

* * *

><p>ANOTHER EARTH, A MONTH AGO<p>

"Sir, I do wish you would reconsider," Pennyworth remonstrated with his employer. "As I have said before, too much truth is not good for some relationships." Thomas' fatuous affection for the boy had come to a head. Now he wanted to adopt him, after telling the boy the truth about the Graysons' murder! Richard wasn't stupid! While Thomas had bought off most of the local judges, it hadn't been a clean sweep. And that new District Attorney, Harvey Dent was posing problems as well. "He could go to the police!"

Thomas Wayne, tying his tie, merely smiled at the reflection of his aged butler in the mirror. "For all intents and purposes, Richard has been my son since he was twelve. He's saved my life a dozen times and I've done the same for him. I trust him not to turn on me." He turned, seeing the look of shock on Alfred's face. "That's why I want to come clean and tell him everything. He'll figure it out himself anyway. It's better that it come from me. Richard is younger than we are and he can do more with the fortune I've built up than either of us can. With the bulk of the Wayne companies and money behind him, Richard can have what you and I have always wanted most: ultimate power." He finished with his tie and donned the suit jacket. "I've already been to see the lawyer. Right after New Year's Day, I'm formally adopting Richard as my son and heir. "

"Of course, sir," Pennyworth asked. "But don't you think he will be upset when you tell him about what really happened to his parents?" Was Thomas mad? This was a danger, not only to Thomas but to Alfred Pennyworth himself. Both of them could spend the rest of their lives in Blackgate if Richard told the police.

"He is my son in everything that counts," Thomas said with a smile. "I want everything clear between us. He and I have been so close, I'm sure he'll forgive me and understand my reasons for what I've done." Pennyworth held open the door and Thomas went through, to the sports car parked in front of the house. He didn't see the hard expression that crossed Pennyworth's face.

That evening, Thomas and Richard Grayson met for dinner in the family dining room at Arkham Manor. Thomas pled, raged and ultimately sat powerless in his chair when Richard Grayson fled the house in anguish. Alfred Pennyworth heard and saw everything from the shadows, watching Thomas finally stood up.

"He's left me, Alfred," Thomas said slowly. "He...he didn't understand that his parents were stiffing me, that I had to do what I did. And the Gordons..." His face fell. "He held it against me. But I only did it because I love him and want him to have a good life!" He turned to Alfred. "What should I do, Alfred?" he said, tears clogging his voice.

Alfred put an arm around his own boy's shoulders, just like he used to. "Let him go for now, Thomas. He is upset, as the young are often upset so easily. He'll come back later. He hasn't been on his own since he was a child; he won't know what to do on the streets alone."

Thomas gave his oldest friend a shaky smile. "Good advice, Alfred. I think I'll go to bed. Thank you."

"And remember sir, whatever happens, I will be here to help you," Alfred replied. feeling the old closeness reviving.

"I never had any doubt," Thomas said and walked slowly up the stairs to his room.

After he was sure that Thomas was asleep, Alfred left the manor for the shadows of Gotham's underworld. He had made contact with a particular criminal some time before and had kept the relationship sweet with regular cash payments in case of future need.

* * *

><p>THAT EVENING<p>

"You understand? I don't want Owlman killed. I want you to find Talon and remove him. Permanently," Alfred said to the white-faced clown.

The Joker nodded, his floppy green hair waving in the strong winter wind.

"I've always wanted to bag me that birdie after all the evil he's done in Gotham," he grinned wide, his bared teeth glistening in the dark, "But it's you and Owlman who really deserve killing."

Pennyworth reached into his coat pocket and removed a roll of large bills. "Perhaps another time. When the job is done and Owlman has found the body, you can pick up the second payment in the usual place."

Joker took the money and secreted it in his green suit. "Someday, Gotham will have her justice and I'll be there to see it done." With that, he slipped away. Pennyworth shrugged into his heavy coat. It looked like it was going to be a cold Christmas this year. 

* * *

><p>PRESENT DAY, THIS EARTH<p>

ROOM 2C

"I thought you might enjoy a spot of tea," Alfred Pennyworth said to the butler known as Pennyworth.

"An interesting interrogation method," Pennyworth replied. "I am familiar with 'good cop, bad cop'."

"This is nothing of the sort," Alfred said, pouring first milk into a cup, then a generous amount of Lapsang souchong. "Sugar?"

"One, please," Pennyworth said, stirring the cup. He tasted took a scone and tasted it. "Mmmmm. Very good. Clearly not Martha's recipe, hers were so dry."

Alfred sat, his own cup before him, prepared identically to that of his opposite number. "Actually, a local physician gave me the recipe. Turns out, her father had a small bakery. I do agree that Martha's recipe wasn't always reliable." Alfred took a sip. "As to interrogation, if your background is anything like mine, I imagine you are quite familiar with the methodology. MI-6?"

"No, I was an agent of His Majesty's Privy Intelligence Service. We didn't give them code numbers. My designation was 'Outsider'." Pennyworth spread a dab of jam on his scone and continued eating. "You?"

"A very obscure branch of Military Intelligence. Unimaginatively, I was simply 'Agent A'," Alfred said, buttering his own scone. "I do hope you enjoy the jam. The strawberries for it grow wild on the estate."

"Quite good," Pennyworth said. "And so, you wish to question me about my master's affairs?"

"Not entirely," Alfred replied. "I thought it was time we had a little chat about our respective masters and one Richard John Grayson."

"Ah," Pennyworth poured himself more tea. "You see the problem."

"Indeed," Alfred said. "You do admit that the...er...Talon...you acquired is not your own?"

Pennyworth smiled. "And yes, my father did advise me that a gentleman doesn't take what does not belong to him. Still, he is an engaging boy."

"A boy who has a family of his own and who can only be shoehorned into yours with considerable difficulty," Alfred replied.

"I am aware of that," Pennyworth said serenely. "This jam really is excellent, but the scones might be improved by the addition of some currants."

"I will consider it," Alfred said patiently. "You don't care for the boy, do you?"

"I care for Thomas Wayne and my only wish is to make him happy," Pennyworth said. "My own feelings towards Talon don't enter into it."

"I imagine it was you who actually...er...lowered the boom, as it were, on the Graysons?" Alfred said delicately.

"Of course. Thomas had to be in the audience that night, ready to comfort the child. In any case, the Graysons were a liability. They had been shorting their payments to us and were influencing others in the circus to stop paying us our cut. They were fortunate that Master Thomas was so taken with their son, or the boy would have died tragically as well."

"Your position will be considerably strengthened if Dick Grayson remains here," Alfred poured another cup of tea for both butlers. "Thomas has shown some affection for Master Dick, even though he isn't his original Richard Grayson. You must have felt let down when Owlman discovered that he could...er...replace his missing Talon. I imagine that he turned to you quite a bit after the first one died." Alfred took a sip, eyes fixed on Pennyworth's face. "Especially after you'd gone to all the trouble of removing the original."

"Figured that out, have you?" Pennyworth smiled ironically. "Master Thomas was beginning to turn towards me in his grief. But then this messy crisis arose." He sighed. "Ah, well, needs must when the Devil drives!"

"And what of this Talon's future?" Alfred cocked his head to one side. "Are you the one who told your Talon about the death of his parents?"

Pennyworth laughed. "Indeed, no! That was Thomas' own idea, although I did try to persuade him otherwise. He wanted to be honest with the boy!" He snorted and wiped his lips with the linen napkin. "After all my reminders to 'think it through' before taking action! He felt guilty about his actions and hoped that the boy would somehow forgive him! Weak. Thomas was always much too sentimental." Pennyworth returned Alfred's stare with a beady-eyed look of his own. "As to Dick Grayson's ultimate fate? Who can say? But he'll die as Thomas' beloved Talon." 

* * *

><p>ROOM B-2<p>

Several Hours Later

Batman strode into the room without stopping, slamming open the door and letting it close behind him. He approached the prisoner's bunk and slammed a stack of printouts down next to Owlman. "You have to give Dick Grayson the antidote." Batman growled and threw back his cowl. His eyes were bloodshot. Had he been crying? Owlman consciously slowed his pulse back to normal resting. Batman's entrance had triggered his defensive instincts, no doubt on purpose.

"I've already told you," Owlman said with a smirk. "You don't have it on this planet and there's no point in your trying to find an antidote!"

Bruce leaned over Owlman. "Did you want to kill my Dick Grayson? Because that's what is going to happen to this one unless you counteract that drug! Your chemical agent behaves like a prion disease in his blood chemistry. Here is your proof!" Picking up the papers, he shoved them at the criminal. "Read them!"

Owlman began to read from the top sheet. "This is ridiculous. And a fake! Polythymene has been used for years without any harm. You're lying" He said, shoving the papers back. "You just want me to give him back!" Owlman leaned back against the wall. "But he's my partner and he'll stay that way." He had to be faking it, Owlman considered. Bruce Wayne was well-known as a good poker player. And the drug had always been safe in the years he'd used it.

Bruce rubbed his eyes wearily. "You aren't getting it. Dick Grayson, MY Dick Grayson was born on this Earth. We've found in the past that there are microscopic differences between matter in each of the universes that make up the multiverse. He wouldn't respond in exactly the same way to one of your drugs as someone born on your earth. I tell you, you've poisoned him!" Bruce made eye contact with Owlman, clearly trying to project sincerity. But Owlman wasn't fooled. The only cards Bruce had left were trickery if he ever wanted to let Dick Grayson out into the light of day again. He had to press for the antidote.

Owlman leaned back again and smiled. "I understand your affection for the boy. I've come to love him as well. Don't worry, he'll be well-cared for as my Talon. He'll become a very powerful and wealthy man one day." He closed his eyes, satisfied smile on his face. "His loyalties stay with me for the rest of his life. I do appreciate your dummying up a fine set of medical records. Even," he held up an MRI photograph. "an MRI scan. I am impressed but you must know that I have to believe that this is some kind of trick to force me to hand over the antagonist. On my Earth, Polythymene is like...like aspirin! It's effective and harmless. It's not more used by governments because it's so damned expensive to make and that's the only reason. No. I won't counteract my drug. Dick Grayson is mine!"

He heard Batman's breathing roughen and then a sigh. "Owlman...I'm not lying. This is God's own truth. Your drug will cause the following symptoms in Dick Grayson, and soon!: loss of muscle coordination and balance along with memory loss, slowly progressing into dementia. I am...begging you..."

Startled, Owlman opened his eyes to find the Dark Knight on his knees before him. "What...?"

"Please. You've implanted the memories. You have what you want. Give him the antagonist now. Then you can go. All of you. With Dick. All I ask of you is that you save his life. Once he starts showing symptoms, it will be too late; the brain damage will be permanent."

Owlman was silent with amazement. Batman was giving up? He was letting go? Owlman didn't believe Batman's offer for a moment, but he wasn't going to let this offer go to waste either. "You are willing to give me Dick Grayson with no strings attached? Why? What profit does this have for you?"

Batman smiled bitterly. "I don't operate that way. Dick Grayson is my son. I raised him and watched him become the man he is now and I'd rather slit my wrists than see him under the control of a criminal like you. But your damned drug is going to kill him very soon. It won't be an easy death, either." His voice caught on the last syllables before he grated out the rest. "I'd rather he be alive and happy under your control than watch his mind rot away before his body follows."

Owlman reflected that maybe this wasn't a trick after all. Still, he needed to be sure. "Very well. I will give him the antagonist, but only after you have released me, my butler and my new Talon and I am certain that we are beyond your interference. Will that do?" He held out his hand.

Batman eyed him steadily, his jaw working. "Do you swear by all that you consider holy that you will give him the antagonist?"

"You have my word of honor," Owlman replied, hand still out.

Batman clasped it and they shook hands on the deal.


	29. Pennyworths

CHAPTER 29

Author's Note: Much of the dialogue and plot from the "Another Earth" segments is taken directly from Justice League of America 23.4 

* * *

><p>ANOTHER EARTH- The evening Richard Grayson Left<p>

After soothing Thomas Wayne, and leaving him with a bottle of bourbon to ease his pain, Alfred Pennyworth returned to the kitchen to wash the evening dishes. He shook his head over the uneaten food. At Thomas' request, he had prepared all of Richard's favorites: stuffed mushrooms, macaroni and cheese and steaks. Such a waste. If only Thomas had listened to him, all this would have been unnecessary.

"I know what you did," a young baritone voice came from behind him. Pennyworth turned, scrub brush in hand, to see Richard, garbed as Talon, tears streaking his face.

"Lad, I tried to talk him out of it," Pennyworth said gently. "The deaths were necessary and you understand that business..."

"...Must come first," Talon said. "Yeah, I've heard that one a million times. But why my folks? And why Barbara?" Talon gulped back more tears and grated out. "And you, Alfred! You fixed the wires and you hired the JOKER to kill Barbara and her father?" He looked up and made eye contact. "We fight the Joker. We don't ally with him!"

"You know the reasons for both killings," Pennyworth replied. "An example had to be made. If Thomas hadn't loved you, you would be dead as well. And as for Joker," Alfred shook his head and set down the dishtowel. "He's the best at what he does. Miss the kill shot and cripple Barbara for life? Put such an active young lady into a wheelchair? No. It had to be done quickly and efficiently. That's why I hired the Joker."

"Alfred," Richard searched the butler's face for any evidence of pity or remorse. He found none. "Thomas kept me alive because he _loved_ me? What kind of love is it that destroys an entire family? That separates me from my friends? That demands I be loyal only to him and nobody else? That's not love!" Richard was silent, wiping off his cheeks. He began again. "I believed in you, both of you. I really thought you had my best interests at heart. I was wrong." His eyes narrowed behind his owlish eyepieces. "I'm going to kill you. And him. But not now. The Joker goes first. Goodbye, Alfred," he said in a low voice and left.

Alfred took a moment or two to allow his heartrate to slow. He debated running after the boy with a gun but decided that Talon was too fast and he too old to solve this problem immediately. He would need help. 

* * *

><p>LATER THAT EVENING<p>

"You understand? I don't want Owlman killed. I want you to find Talon and remove him. Permanently," Alfred said to the white-faced clown.

The Joker nodded, his floppy green hair waving in the strong winter wind.

"I've always wanted to bag me that birdie after all the evil he's done in Gotham," he grinned wide, his bared teeth glistening in the dark, "But it's you and Owlman who really deserve killing."

Pennyworth reached into his coat pocket and removed a roll of large bills. "Perhaps another time. When the job is done and Owlman has found the body, you can pick up the second payment in the usual place."

Joker took the money and secreted it in his green suit. "Someday, Gotham will have her justice and I'll be there to see it done." With that, he slipped away. Pennyworth shrugged into his heavy coat. It looked like it was going to be a cold Christmas this year. 

* * *

><p>TWO DAYS LATER<p>

ANOTHER EARTH

"Can you hear me, Thomas?" Pennyworth drove the Owlmobile through the heavy rains of Gotham at Christmastime. A red dot moved from point to point on his scanner and he tried for more speed. "You should've done what we always do: **lie**." he said crisply to his master. "I'm doing my best, to follow you, sir. But when you cut across the rooftops, you're harder to track."

"Where's Talon?" Owlman demanded through the comm system.

"He isn't answering his com-link. You should _never_ have told him about his parents, sir. Or told him the truth abut Barbara and the rest."

"Just let me know when you find him," Owlman responded. "Owlman out." He leapt off the top of a building and swung down to street-level.

Pennyworth sighed. The last time he'd seen Owlman cry was when Pennyworth had killed Thomas and Martha Wayne, with Owlman's assistance. Since then, Thomas Wayne II had spent considerable time and effort controlling his world and the people he came into contact with. Gotham was completely in his hands, but people? They were unpredictable.

Owlman crept through the sodden streets and heard a low chuckling voice he knew. He had put systems in place to replace Gotham's former chaos with order. Even the buses ran on time in Owlman's Gotham. The only exception to the stern order of things was a single man: the Joker. The man lived to break Owlman's hold on people, to free Gotham from his control. Joker was a cancer in the city and needed to be eradicated!

Owlman quickly threw to Owlarangs at his enemy, and smiled when he heard the police sirens. Ridding the city of Gordon had been the last obstacle to control of G.C.P.D. Joker dodged and ran in a hail of bullets. Owlman followed.

He walked through a small forest of decorated Christmas trees, lit by spotlights and Christmas lights, looking for suspicious shadows on the top of the skyscraper.

"We've lost the visual on the Joker, sir," Pennyworth transmitted to Owlman.

"Stay on my signal and cut the spotlights," Owlman commanded.

"You could have told Richard another story about the death of his parents," the butler insisted.

Owlman sighed. "He was going to find out, Alfred. I thought it'd be better from me. Richard will understand. He'll..."

Owlman came to a stop. Although the spotlights were out, the dim light remaining showed six gift boxes before him. Each was wrapped in green paper, each with a purple ribbon. They were arranged like a stick figure. Head, torso, two arms, two legs...

"Aren't you going to open them up?" a voice called from the shadows. "I wrapped them myself!"

Thomas stood in the rain and saw and in seeing, felt his entire world crumble around him.

"Thomas? What is it?" Alfred asked over the com-link.

Owlman gently lifted one of the boxes, feeling the weight of it, and saw a red substance drip from it onto the tar paper. "Talon," he said, voice wavering. He clutched it to his chest, head bowed over it. "I'm going to kill you for this, Joker." He was surprised at how calm he sounded.

"Oh, I've heard _that_ before," the hateful voice called and the Clown himself stepped forward. He fanned a handful of sharpened, metallic cards, one of his favorite weapons. "From your former partner-in-crime. Pick a card, Owlman. Any card!"

A loud report and the cards along with two of Joker's fingers were blown apart. Alfred stepped from the shadows with shotgun in hand. "Always preferred chess, myself," he said, stepping forward. He looked down at Joker.

"Those boxes. Is Talon...?" Pennyworth queried

"Yes."

"He went after the Joker because of what you said." Pennyworth finished.

"Richard got himself caught. This is _his_ fault," Owlman gritted.

"Like what happened to _me _is _my_ fault, Mr. Wayne?" Joker called out. "I didn't drop myself into the toxic waters of Gotham bay!" He struggled and pressed a bloodied finger on his boutonniere. A green liquid sprayed into Pennyworth's face.

Pennyworth clapped his hands to his face and screamed.

"Oh, quit screaming! You deserve worse for what you've helped him do, Pennyworth!" Joker snarled.

"Alfred!" Owlman cried and swooped down, kicking Joker to the ground. Owlman grabbed Alfred's hands and gingerly pulled them away from his face.

"Hn...hn..ha" Pennyworth struggled, but his face curved into a smile and he began to laugh.

Joker, on his knees, echoed the laughter.

"What did you do to Alfred?" Owlman demanded.

"I know the truth, Owlman. I know why you try to control Gotham. But you can't. You can't control them...Ha...ha...ha...ha..! Just like you couldn't control your family. And one day, when you realize that, Gotham will _suffer_ just as they did."

Owlman snagged him by the back of his collar and began dragging him.

"Gotham will die because of you!" Joker shouted. In the rain, Joker slid easily to the edge of the rooftop.

"At the very least, Joker..._you_ will!" Owlman growled and threw Joker off the rooftop. He made sure that Joker was ended, then strode back to the only family he had left.

Alfred lay, laughing hard and barely able to draw a breath. He sat beside his oldest friend. "I still need your assistance with Talon gone..." Owlman said and plucked a hypodermic from his belt. "I don't trust anyone on this planet more than you." He primed it and stabbed it into Pennyworth's chest.

Pennyworth's laughing slowed and stopped. "You shouldn't trust anyone...Ha..."

Pennyworth's life was saved, but the Joker's venom left its mark: his hair had turned green, his skin white and his lips red. Just like the Joker. And had developed a tic he was unable to control. Every now and then, he uttered a loud "ha!"

Driven off their own world, the Crime Syndicate decided to settle on earth and the Outsider was their fifth column, gone ahead to prepare the way. He began to build an army of supporters.

He decided later that it must have been something in the atmosphere. He'd never known Thomas to be capable of guilt, yet his master was mourning his lost almost-brother, his Talon. When Pennyworth first set eyes on the captured Nightwing, he knew that Thomas would want his talon back.

He should have killed Nightwing before Thomas ever arrived. 

* * *

><p>EARTH-1<p>

ROOM 1-A

Talon lay on his bunk face down with the pillow over his head when dinner arrived. First he smelled something delicious, then heard a loud pounding on the door.

"C'mon, Goldie! Dinner's on the table an' Alfred'll kill me if you don't eat any of it! Wake up! Up! Up!" The voice shouted in time to the pounding. Talon pushed the pillow aside and went to the door. To his surprise, it opened and a dark-haired young man in jeans pushed his way in, carrying a tray. "So, you're awake are you? Alfie also wanted me to make sure you were alive an' breathin'." He slammed the door behind himself, put the tray on the bunk and stood up again. "Just so we're clear, if ya jump me I got Batman's permission ta beatcha to a pulp!" He grinned, flexing his muscles with fists upright. Talon's eyes grew stony.

"I'm not going to jump you," he said, his own hands balling into fists. "Who are you, anyway? And my name isn't Goldie!"

The young man folded his arms, grinning even more broadly. "I call you Goldy, Dick. It's because you're the golden boy who can do no wrong and ta Batman yer shit don't stink!" He leaned forward and said in a confidential tone. "But you know and I both know that yer shit does stink, Dicky-bird, and you've really stepped in it this time!" He sat down next to the tray and started to eat Dick's dinner. "It was really stupid of you ta get caught and brainwashed by Owlman, and don't think that Bruce wasn't pissed with me about that!" He picked up a piece of fried chicken and took a big bite. "Remember me? I'm Jason," he said around the chicken. "I was your replacement as Robin. Bigger, better, faster and smarter than the old model!" He smiled with his mouth open and picked up a piece of corn bread slathered with butter and honey.

At first, Talon was surprised that this person, Jason, had even come into his cell. He was irritated but reminded himself to stay friendly and try to build allies, but when this Jason person started eating his food, Talon realized that he was hungry and that chicken smelled good. He stalked forward with fists clenched, intending to work out all the stress, fear, worry and tension he'd been feeling since waking in this cell.

Before Talon's swing could connect, Jason had thrown the corn bread back onto the tray and was upright to block it. "Uh uh uh, _Dick!_" Jason tsk'd and swung right back, adding a below the belt kick as well. "Gotta be polite to your hosts!"

Talon avoided the kick to the nuts, but the punch landed. He fell back against the wall but bounced back again, fists flying. He was reminded of his sessions with Owlman, feeling off-balance somehow, and his timing was definitely...OOOOF! He thumped against the wall and slid down, hand to his head. Looking up through blurry eyes, his attacker even seemed a bit...concerned? After a moment, seeing that Talon was conscious, Jason broke into a grin again. "You want some more? _Dick_?" he drawled.

"My _nam_e is Richard," Talon spat blood and stood unsteadily. "I didn't know that Batman conducted interrogations this way."

"Naw," Jason replied, arms folded over his chest. "This is just my little addition to the process. See, the Dick Grayson I know would never go down without a fight, so I thought I'd figure out just which Dick you are. Seems ta me that you really might be Talon after all, because Dick Grayson would already be...WOOP!" Jason went down when Talon rushed him. Jason did his best to defend against a rain of blows, which were becoming more and more sure by the minute.

"Jason," Barbara's crisp voice came over his earpiece. "Bruce said to engage him, not kill him!"

"At this point," Jason said, trying to fight his way back to his feet. "I think he's plenty engaged. He's starting to show some of that Grayson style, too!" Jason managed to get to his feet, pulling the cell door open behind him. Enraged, Talon followed him out and found himself in a circus-style workout area, complete with trapeze, rings, high wire and hanging ropes. Jason sprinted for the ropes and swung himself up with a whoop. "C'mon, Talon, if that's what yer name is! C'mon and get me!"

Without thinking, Talon ran after him. The traps felt very familiar, even the worn grips seemed to fit right into his hands as though he'd done the wearing. That was logical, he supposed, since his twin was the one who had worked out here. Watching Jason laughing at him, he frowned and began to execute a plan that floated into his mind, as though he had rehearsed it. Plan NW47, the code numbers seemed to swim in front of his eyes. He shook his head hard and let his body take the lead. That hooting idiot was going down. Now!

"Bruce didn't say you could let him out!" Jason's earpiece squawked. "You have to contain him!"

"I'll do it when..." Jason said and looked up. Dick swung at Jason, aiming his own below-the-belt kick at his opponent. "...I get around to it!" Jason scrambled up his own rope, watching the other combatant swing through beneath him. "He may not know who he is, but his body sure does!" Jason gasped, trying to stay out of his reach.

"Be careful!" Barbara called. "Talon is trained to kill!"

"Now ya tell me," Jason replied. 

* * *

><p>ROOM 2-C<p>

"You don't mean to tell me that you hired the Joker to kill your Talon?" Alfred asked with polite amazement. "More tea? Or would you prefer some Earl Grey?"

"Thank you," Pennyworth held out his cup. "I will stay with the Lapsang. I must say that this is the best tea I've had since we arrived, aside from those pots I've brewed for myself. It's rather a relief to enjoy a bit of civilization from time to time."

"Quite," Alfred agreed and refilled the cup. "I also have some cucumber sandwiches made, if you'd like something more substantial."

"Please, bring them on," Pennyworth said, watching as Alfred uncovered another tray and offered it to his guest. "So, about Talon, Joker was the best. Although," Pennyworth frowned. "His...er...dismembering Richard's body and wrapping the pieces was in poor taste..." Pennyworth picked up another sandwich. "Of course, by killing the Joker himself, Thomas rid me of that loose end as well. I thought that the worst was over but then we were forced to flee to this Earth. And what does Master Thomas do? He becomes fixated on this world's Richard Grayson!" Pennyworth shook his head and smiled at Alfred. "I truly wish that Ultraman and Superwoman had finished beating the boy to death before we ever saw him!"

Knuckles white, Alfred squeezed lemon over his own cup then removed the mangled remains with a teaspoon and wiped his hand. "I can certainly understand your reasoning. But you can still maneuver things towards a successful end. I am sure that Master Bruce would deal gently with you and your master if you ceded Dick Grayson to us," Alfred suggested softly.

"It doesn't matter," Pennyworth said. "Grayson will be gone soon, almost as cleanly as our own Talon." He stared down into his own teacup with a quizzical look. "I do seem to be a brilliant conversationalist, Alfred. I'm quite chatty today."

Alfred replied, "What do you mean, Grayson will be gone soon?" He poured more tea into Pennyworth's cup and offered another sandwich.

Munching on a sandwich, Pennyworth said, "After his initial doses, Grayson had a number of seizures. Concerned that the memory drugs I gave him seemed to be working oddly in his system, I did a scan or two. They confirmed that the drug was causing a slow cascade of brain damage. A few more tests confirmed it; the boy is dying. Of course, by then, Master Thomas was pushing me to increase the dosages and speed up the reprogramming process. Upon consideration, I decided that losing another Talon would simply place us, place me, back where we started." He sipped delicately. "So I increased the dose, per Thomas' instructions. I've been blaming Grayson's increasing confusion and clumsiness on his reaction to the drug-truthful enough. Alas, I will soon become, again, Master Thomas' best and only friend." Pennyworth smiled and then frowned. "I hadn't intended to tell you that."

"Isn't there some kind of an antidote? If he had it, would that stop the drug's progress? Would his memories still be altered?" Alfred asked.

"Oh yes, there is one and it would save his life, yes. The programming might or might not stick...I say..." Pennyworth set down his teacup. "I've been babbling along for an hour now. You...you put something into my tea!" he said in a voice filled with outrage.

Alfred began to clear the small table, deftly placing the cups, sandwiches and condiments back onto the tray. "Indeed I have. And the blood chemistry issue goes two ways. This drug has only a mild effect on people of Earth-1, but I thought I would try it. Denizens of Earth-2, however, seem much more susceptible."

"You drank the same tea! Why aren't you babbling like an idiot?" Pennyworth demanded, struggling out of his seat.

"I took an antidote first," Alfred replied with a serene smile. "Good day." He gently shut the door behind himself, leaving the raging butler behind. 

* * *

><p>Alfred entered the mansion's kitchen to find Bruce Wayne slumping over a cup of coffee. Eyebrow raised, he set down the silver tray with the remains of the tea and approached his master. "You know, then?" he asked quietly. "About Master Dick? Were you watching my interview with Mr. Pennyworth?"<p>

Bruce turned in his chair to face Alfred, surprise on his face. "No, and I haven't seen the film yet. Did Owlman know that the chemicals he gave Dick would kill him? What did Pennyworth say?"

Alfred moved around and took the seat facing Wayne. "Perhaps you should tell me what information you have about Master Dick's treatment at their hands..."

Bruce explained and showed Alfred the medical data that Barry had sent. The butler's face, already wrinkled became even more worn-looking as he read the reports. He sighed as he set the last paper on the table. "I regret that I have nothing positive to add to this account. No, Owlman didn't know, nor did Pennyworth at the time he first gave the drug to Master Dick. But after its initial effect on his victim, Pennyworth discovered its poisonous nature and elected both to keep it a secret and to double Master Dick's dose."

"What?" Bruce sat upright, rage and disbelief fighting for control. "He's been Owlman's support since Thomas was a boy! Why would he do that?"

Alfred's tired eyes held his long years' experience of human evil as he replied. "Unlike our situation, Pennyworth did not welcome the addition of a young, energetic boy in the household. Where Owlman promptly adopted Richard Grayson as his own, Pennyworth's resentment only grew until he took steps to have his rival...disposed of...by the Joker. He is unable to accept our own boy as Owlman's new surrogate child but neither does he wish to be seen to disobey Owlman's orders." Alfred's lip twisted. "You have said, sir, that Thomas Wayne is your own distorted twin? I regret that I just had tea with mine. It forces me to meditate upon my own ethical failures and wonder..."

Bruce pushed the coffee cup away and took the old man's hand in both of his. "You are not Pennyworth, my old friend. You're right, he's a copy, a distorted one. How does he plan to explain the death of a second Talon? Especially since this death will be drawn out and painful for all concerned?"

"I am not sure that he has considered that," Alfred replied. "But I suspect he will use Thomas' trust and disguise Master Dick's death as something natural, or at least, explainable. Even if the cause is traced back to the drug itself, Pennyworth can simply point out that he was following Thomas' own orders to increase the dose."

"Thus leaving Thomas to blame himself for the loss of another son," Bruce said, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and didn't meet Alfred's gaze. "You won't like what I have to report. I spoke with Owlman about Dick's condition."

Alfred's expression grew hopeful. "He surely doesn't want the boy to perish. What did he say?"

"He didn't believe me," Bruce said in a low voice, head bowed. "Can't say I blame him. Where Dick is concerned, he holds the cards. All I can do is try to trick him into freeing him. So, I agreed to hand Dick over if it will save his life."

"My word!" Alfred exclaimed. "Have you taken leave of your senses, sir?"

Bruce's looked up with a wolfish grin. "I did say that trickery is my only option now. Initially, I was going to release Dick to Owlman and trail them until Dick was given the antidote, then get him back. But I think we have a better option."

Alfred nodded. "Indeed?"

"Let's go talk to Mr. Pennyworth."


	30. Dick Grayson returns

Author's note: Okay, campers, we're heading in towards the end. I have a few more chapters left, but the story will finish soon. As always, I love to hear from you. I hope that you like my version of Forever Evil better than DC's.

CHAPTER 30

BATCAVE-GYM AREA

Jason was beginning to feel a little panicky, an emotion he didn't much like. He'd always known that Dick was the better fighter. On the streets, before he returned to the Bat-Clan, he'd relied on his guns to even the odds. Now, Dick had the upper hand. Whatever memories his brain retained were nothing to the techniques his body still remembered. Quickly, he swung away from another kick and landed on the gym floor. There was no question that Dick was at home on a trapeze and high wire. He needed to equalize things.

Dick landed four feet in front of him and seemed to stumble as he did.

"What is it, Dicky-bird? Can't stick the landing?" Jason taunted. If he could trigger Grayson's temper, he might gain an advantage.

"What I don't understand," Dick said as the two circled each other. "Is why you're all bothering me. Don't you have better things to do than pick fights with your prisoners? And my name isn't Dick. I'm Richard Grayson and I'm Owlman's Talon."

"Haven't you wondered why you're so good with batarangs but really suck with Owlman's weapons?" Jason aimed a strike at Dick's face and was blocked. He moved easily around Dick's counterstrike.

"How d'you know...?" Dick took another bead on his target, annoyed at how slow his reactions seemed to be these days. "Ooof!" A hard one to the jaw and he went down. To his surprise, Jason remained where he was, waiting for him to get up.

"Why don't you hit me when I'm down?" Dick asked, climbing to his feet.

"Because I fight fair, that's why," Jason replied. "Especially when I'm sparring with family." His eye twinkled and he struck out again, getting Dick in the knee and gut. Dick went down even faster. "Unless it's a no-holds-barred match, of course. Although usually by this time, I'm the one on the mat with a bloody nose."

Talon scrambled away from Jason and ran the back of his hand across his nose. When had that happened? Didn't matter. Jason went fuzzy and he blinked his eyes rapidly to try and focus. Suddenly, he couldn't see Jason and he was in a choke hold. "What did I getcha for your seventeenth birthday, Dick? For that matter, what did Batman getcha for your sixteenth? C'mon! Think!" Jason held him tightly with one arm and rubbed the knuckles of his other hand across the top of Talon's head. "Let's see if a Bat-Noogie works on you!"

Talon struggled and fell to the floor when Jason suddenly released him. He rubbed his head and glared up at the hooting idiot who stood over him. "Go 'way and leave me alone!" Talon shouted. "I didn't ask to be kidnapped by your Batman!"

"No, you were kidnapped by Owlman, Dick," Jason replied in a reasonable voice. "And I let them do it."

"No you didn't," Talon shouted without thinking as he climbed to his feet again. "They drugged me and pounded you. Not your fault..." Wait a minute. Now that he thought about it, there was a hazy memory of Jason being beaten while Alfred helped Talon away. "You called Owlman an asswipe..." He squinted at Jason. "Why'd you do that?"

Jason's eyes rounded. "You remember that? Maybe there's hope for you yet. Yeah, I called him an asswipe and you got me beaten up pretty good. And I got a talking-to from Batman...Dick? You okay?"

Talon was swaying where he stood. "I...it's like I have two lives' worth of memories. An' I can't tell which is which... Feel funny...This isn't right. None of this is right..." A new emotion was building inside him-terror. He started backing away, then sprinted for the pole. Within seconds, he was climbing and came to a stop on the highest platform. Unsteadily, he looked back down at Jason. "Go away!"

Jason started moving. The net hadn't been strung, which wasn't unusual. After initial training, none of the Robins had ever needed it, Dick least of all. He mentally kicked himself; he should have considered Dick's condition before he drew him out into the gym area. "Dick, I think you need to come down now," he said uneasily, climbing faster.

"Shit!" Barbara's voice came from somewhere below. "Jason, what the hell are you doing to him?"

Eyes fixed on his brother above him, Jason answered her. "I'm getting him down, okay? God, what a nag! Dick, I'll never understand why you two have been dating so long. Is she always like this?"

Tattered memories of arguing with Babs flashed across Dick's closed eyes. "Yeah," he said with a chuckle, eyes still closed. "It's one of her more attractive features." But the arguments had been with a grownup Barbara, not the teenager Richard remembered. Richard's memories seemed anemic somehow. Dick's recollections of Barbara Gordon had more life to them, more spark. Certainly, more detail. His fear deepened. Who was he, anyway? Richard Grayson-Talon-'son' and protégé to Thomas Wayne? He opened his eyes and looked down. A beautiful redhead on the ground was putting up the net. He could hear her grumbling. Yeah, that was Babs all right: smart, sexy and temperamental. Strong emotion began to build inside him. Love? Did he love her? What did he feel about all this?

Jason had reached the top. "C'mon now, Dickybird. It's time ta climb down. You've had a long day."

"No!" Dick said. "No...I'm just starting to figure things out, Jay. Leave me here."

Jason blinked. Jay. Dick had called him Jay. Dick Grayson, his Dick Grayson was the only one that called him Jay. Dick still looked unsteady, but Jason didn't want to fuck this up, like he'd done when Dick had been kidnapped by Owlman. "All right, but tell me if you get dizzy or anything, okay?"

Dick nodded. " 'kay," he said shortly and seemed to concentrate some more.

"What's going on?" Barbara shouted from below, still working on the net.

"I dunno. He's thinking...maybe he's remembering." Jason yelled back. "This would be the place he'd feel most comfortable for it, anyway."

They both stilled, waiting for Dick.

Dick examined his feelings. They were very strong towards the redhead. What about Jason? He felt conflicted there. Irritation mixed with amusement and...pride? Strange. Okay, now for level ground. How did he feel about Thomas? Affection...gratitude...fear...distrust...He dug up old memories of Thomas but there weren't very many. What had he gotten for Christmas when he was thirteen? Oh yeah, new skateboard. But Thomas' face next to the Christmas tree kept fading out, to be replaced by someone else...Bruce? His lips moved with the name. Without knowing how he did it, he used a memory enhancing technique to analyze his recall more closely. His sixteenth birthday...what had he gotten from Thomas? Keys. He remembered a set of keys flashing overhead into his gloved palm. His green gloved palm, not the tan of Talon's gauntlets. Turning and looking and seeing a motorcycle, painted in red and yellow with a big "R" in a circle. Memories of joy, doing a flip, no, two back flips before running over to the bike and discovering it was a Ducati.

A voice coming from behind him, "She has 235 horsepower and will hit a top speed of 205..." Dick turned and saw a grinning Bruce Wayne...Bruce! "But I expect you to obey Gotham's speed laws! Unless, of course, it's an emergency." Bruce, usually a somber man, was almost laughing to see Dick's joy. Alfred...not Pennyworth...was smiling almost as broadly.

"See to it that you ride safely, young sir. I have enough fears when your mentor takes to the streets on his own...er...'Bat-Cycle'."

"I'll ride safely, Alfie!" he heard himself say as he sat on the beautiful 'cycle. "She's gorgeous, Bruce! Can I ride her now?"

Bruce and Alfred exchanged indulgent glances. "You're of age, you're in uniform and you have a license. Go ahead and see what she'll do. But stay on the estate until you know her capabilities."

Dick put on the matching helmet, started the bike up and tore out of the cave like...well, like a bat out of hell!

* * *

><p>ROOM 2-C<p>

A worried looking Pennyworth stood up from his bunk at the entrance of both Alfred and Batman.

"Now, what do you want?" he snarled. "And why won't you allow me access to my own master?" He stood up straight, reminding Batman even more of his own Alfred under duress.

Couldn't let himself think that. This Alfred was definitely the enemy. Batman placed himself within a foot of the Outsider. "Does your _master_, as you call him, have even an inkling of all you've done?" he snarled.

Pennyworth held himself straight, face untroubled. "My master allows me great leeway in his service. He is confident that his good is my sole purpose."

"I know that you killed Thomas' own Richard Grayson, and that you have designs on his new one," Batman said. "Your master does take lives, doesn't he? Without any mercy or shame. How do you think he would reward a disloyal servant?" Batman nodded at Alfred, who tapped a button on a small remote. The wall lit up and replayed Alfred's interrogation of Pennyworth.

"Dick Grayson needs the antidote for the drug you used on him. Give it to me and Thomas won't see this film. You have nowhere to run, Pennyworth. Your own planet is finished and there is nowhere that you can hide from Owlman's retribution." Batman pulled back his cowl, allowing the butler to see into Bruce Wayne's icy cold eyes. "Or mine. If Dick Grayson dies because of what you've done, I will make an exception to my no-kill policy. You have no allies left."

Pennyworth glared right back. "Thomas has always trusted me, from his childhood. _I _am the one who raised him. _My_ thoughts and ideas have directed his life. When I tell him that your servant, " he sneered. "Cobbled together this pack of lies, he will believe _me_ and not you! I obey Thomas Wayne, only and not some puling little brother of his, whatever planet he was raised on!"

* * *

><p>BATCAVE GYM<p>

Okay, Dick thought, equal time to the other side. He called up a memory of Thomas and a Christmas tree. Pennyworth gave them both egg nog to drink and Dick opened a present...and...he saw the paper tear...and opened it. A set of tiny knives in a carved wood box. What did he feel? He listened and felt nothing. He couldn't tell what the knives were made of or what the balance was like or even whether they were made of carbon steel or stainless. He didn't remember who had made them, Owlman probably, but he didn't know...

He'd been feeling dizzy and confused before, but now it was even worse. He pried open gummy eyelids to find Jason staring at him with an uncharacteristic look of worry. He looked so funny that Dick couldn't control his snort of laughter.

" 's okay, Little Wing," he garbled. "I'm jus' kinna dizzeee 'n my head hurss..." Funny big white blotches began to block out his vision. The last thing he saw before he fell was Jason trying to swoop in to catch him.

Jason missed and Dick plummeted down into the net that Babs had just finished stringing. By the time Jason hit the net himself, Babs was already there, kneeling at Dick's side.

The acrobat was flailing, his muscles spasming in a rhythm, eyes rolled up into his skull.

"He's seizing," she said tensely. "I'll get the gurney. You call Batman. We'll need Alfred and probably Leslie. Don't try to restrain him but don't let him fall off the net"

She hopped off the net, leaving a frightened-looking Jason behind.

* * *

><p>ROOM 2-C<p>

Pennyworth took himself back to his bunk and sat himself down again. "I don't believe that you will kill me. What would your precious Justice League think of you then? They barely trust you now, as it is." He leaned back with a smirk as a frustrated Bruce Wayne's big hands clenched and unclenched in fury.

Batman's commlink activated with a beep. He tapped his ear and growled, "Not now, Jason."

Jason's voice came in reply. "Boss, you'd better get out here fast! We need Alfred and his medical skills and call Dr. T! Dick was remembering! Your idea was working, but now he's having seizures and we don't know what ta do!"

"We'll be right there," Batman grated. "Alfred, bring _him_," he pointed with his chin at Pennyworth. "To the medical bay." He started out the door.

"Where will you be, sir?" Alfred called after him.

"Thomas needs a dose of reality," Batman called back.


	31. Golden Bird

Author's note: While I was writing this, the song below began to play and I couldn't help but see the similarity. Hence, the clip at the start of the story. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 31

Golden Bird

Walking along on a path in the mountains

I saw a bird flying way up high  
>Gold were it's wings in that time of the morning<br>Flashing at me as they flew through the sky

Its beauty was such that I felt I must have it  
>Chased it all day, nearly entered the night<br>Finally angered that I couldn't catch it,  
>Determined I would stop it in flight<p>

I found a stone by a mountain stream flowing  
>rounded and smooth by the waters fast flow<br>It felt so warm and alive in my hand  
>It was an arrow, my arm was the bow.<p>

Then a flashing of wings and a cry pierced the air  
>It fluttered and it fell on the rocks at my feet<br>Weeping It left it, the thing that had fallen  
>Blood stained my hands and tears wet my cheek...<p>

by Levon Helm 

* * *

><p>Gotham City-A Lifetime Ago<p>

Thomas Wayne, age 12, hid in the corner near the stairwell and listened to his parents squabble. They were arguing again, always the same subject: money.

"If you just cut back your clothing budget, we could live on what I make!" Dr. Thomas Wayne said heatedly. His wife, Martha, lit up a cigarette and took a puff.

"If you were a decent surgeon, we wouldn't have money problems! How many malpractice suits is it now? The fifth? Nobody will insure you anymore after the payouts on the last four settlements and now your lawyer has fired you! The problem here, is you, Thomas. If you weren't so in love with the scalpel and just practiced family medicine, we'd be fine," she blew smoke out into his face.

Coughing, Thomas grabbed the cigarette and tossed it to the marble floor and rubbed it out with his foot. "I've spent almost all the Wayne fortune on you and your boyfriends. Insurance is paying all the lawsuits. If we don't do something soon, there won't be anything left for Thomas and Bruce! They'll have to go to a state college, if we can even afford that."

"My costs? Shopping is the only thing that brings me any pleasure, living with you in this drafty old dungeon! And the reason we don't have money is because nobody trusts you enough to hire you as your surgeon. You've lost privileges at both the big hospitals in Gotham now and I know that your clinic is what's supporting us now. This isn't MY fault, Thomas..."

Thomas listened to them, wondering what the future held if the money ran out. He and Bruce would probably have to go to public school. He'd heard about Gotham public schools. He shivered.

"What's up, Tommy? They fighting again?" His little brother, Bruce, moved in next to him. "Sometimes, I just wish I could punch 'em and make 'em stop." Bruce said, voice quavering. "I wish we didn't have any parents! I just wish they'd die!"

"You know, Bruce, I think I do too!" Thomas replied softly

From the door near the dining room entrance, the butler, Alfred Pennyworth watched and heard everything. Before anyone could see him, he slipped through the door and disappeared.

THE NEXT DAY

Wearing a jaunty chauffeur's uniform, Alfred smoothly pulled the limo away from Bruce's elementary school, having dropped him off first. He took the car around the corner and parked it, then turned around in his seat.

"What's wrong, Alfred?" Thomas demanded. "Why are we stopping?"

"Were you serious, Master Thomas?" Pennyworth asked.

"Was I serious about what?" said Thomas.

"About wishing that your parents were dead, as you said last night?" Pennyworth asked.

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter what I think. I can't do anything about it," Thomas said. "But yeah, I was serious. The way they're going through grandpa's money, there won't be anything left for Bruce or me when we're grown up. We'll lose the house and the land and...and everything. And I don't want that. Wayne Manor has been in the family since the 1600's and there have always been Waynes living there. They shouldn't be allowed to destroy all that!"

"You're right," Pennyworth said softly. "But are you willing to take charge of removing the threat to your inheritance?"

Thomas looked up, eyes narrowed. "Is there a way to remove it? I mean, them?"

"There are options, but the only thing that would solve the problem would be something...erm...permanent," Pennyworth's eyes met those of his young charge in the rear-view mirror. "Is that what you want?"

Thomas frowned, turning his face to the side window. After a moment, he nodded. "Yes. They've been lousy parents. Dad has lost most of grandpa's money and Mom..." Thomas gulped, then went on. "Mom beats us, but you know that. I've thought about running away..."

"I imagine you have, young sir. You are an intelligent boy who deserves much better than what you have now. But what about your brother? If we put in place a permanent solution, what about him?" the butler asked gently.

"Bruce?" Thomas' eyes went wide. "Bruce will go along with anything I decide. He always has. But why are you talking to me like this? Why do you care?"

Pennyworth chose his words carefully. "I have no proof of this, you understand, sir, but about nine months before you were born, Martha Wayne and I were...er...intimate."

Thomas jerked in his seat, but he calmed himself. "Mom has always had boyfriends. You probably weren't the only one back then..."

"That is true, " Pennyworth responded. "As I said, I have no proof. But I have always regarded you as a kind of son. I certainly have cared for you as if you were my own, and I will continue to do so regardless of your decision now. Suffice it to say, you have my absolute loyalty. And...and I do care what becomes of you, lad."

"You do?" Thomas said softly. Pennyworth turned around in his seat and met the boy's blue eyes.

"I do," Pennyworth said simply. "I've watched you grow since you were born, changed your diapers, seen your first steps. You are my child as much as if you were born of my blood. I will help you achieve whatever you want in life."

Thomas, never breaking eye contact, nodded slowly. "Yes. I would like that." 

* * *

><p>PRESENT DAY, ROOM 2-C<p>

Pennyworth had felt the false euphoria of Alfred's drug finally leave his system. He mentally kicked himself for being stupid enough to let himself be fed with truth serum, especially by his own counterpart.

Batman rushed out the door and Alfred removed a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Pennyworth eyed him with calculation.

"Don't try anything," Alfred said and had Pennyworth cuffed before he noticed it. "Come with me."

"What is this all about?" demanded Pennyworth. "Where are we going?"

They approached the medical bay area. A gurney with a thrashing body was being pulled into place and locked. "There, this should do," Alfred said and cuffed Pennyworth to a standing pipe. "It's time you saw your own handiwork."

Pennyworth craned his neck as Alfred moved in to help hold the body down onto the gurney. They were trying to fasten restraints, but on who? _Who...? Grayson... Oh my. Those drugs again. Well Thomas, your obsession won't last much longer." _ He smiled. 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

ROOM 2-C

Owlman was startled when the door to his cell was wrenched open by an emotional Batman, cowl laying down on his neck. He looked almost...hysterical...if such a word could be used to describe a man known to have ice in his veins.

Owlman stood easily, refusing to let himself be cowed by this inferior man. He was surprised again when Batman grabbed his hand and began to pull him through the door. Owlman resisted, having noted that Batman didn't seem quite stable.

"What is it? What's going on?" he demanded.

Batman turned to him, his smile a hard grimace. "You think I'm lying, do you? I faked all that medical documentation to trick you into letting Dick go? You love Dick Grayson and only want to take him away from my bad influence? Come with me."

Perplexed, Owlman allowed himself to be pulled into the Batcave itself. In the far corner, a cluster of people crowded around the infirmary area. A metal gurney lay under multiple bright lights and Alfred, Batman's own butler, was shouting.

"Fasten the restraints and hold him still!" Alfred had donned a long apron, gloves and medical mask. "We have to stop the seizing and I can't an IV port into him if he's thrashing all over the table!"

Talon...Richard...was pale-faced and jerking erratically on the gurney. Two other people were trying to hold him down, and continually being thrown off. One was an athletic redhead, Batgirl, he presumed, seeing a resemblance to the adolescent Barbara Gordon of his own world. The other was Jason Todd, the youth he'd personally beaten as a warning to Batman. This Jason had thrown himself over Richard's legs, trying to keep him on the gurney by sheer body weight.

"I've got his ankles and legs fastened, " Jason called out as Barbara pulled herself off the gurney.

"Upper arms, wrists and chest!" she said breathlessly. "Any ETA on Leslie?"

"She's coming," Alfred replied, scanning the writhing body for a vein and, finding one in an arm, held it down firmly with one hand while inserting the needle with the other. Barbara helped to keep the arm stable while Alfred finished the job, then taped it down. He reached back, hung the IV bag and tapped the release. Liquid began to drip into Grayson's arm.

Jason saw Batman and Owlman approaching from behind. He quietly flanked Batman, adding himself as escort. Owlman made eye contact. Jason was ready for a little revenge if given even a little provocation. Thomas nodded and returned his attention to his would-be Talon. He found himself holding his breath as Richard's body continued to thrash.

"How...how long has he been seizing?" he asked in a subdued voice. "He never did this with us..."

"About ten minutes, " the redhead said crisply. "But if this is the first time..."

"No, not the first time," Alfred interrupted, wiping his forehead with the back of an arm. "He's had seizures before, thanks to that foul drug you've been dosing him with." He gestured behind him to where a cowed Pennyworth was cuffed to a pipe. "Ask him about it."

Owlman pulled back his own cowl and made eye contact with his own Alfred. "What does he mean?"

"Nothing," Pennyworth said, lips pursed. "More lies, as you might expect. We have all the cards and they are trying to trick you."

Bruce, eyes fixed on the form occupying the table, said, "No tricks. No lies. You ordered your man to give Dick mind-altering drugs to steal his memories and substitute your own. Dick had a bad reaction to lower doses and went into seizures, but Pennyworth didn't tell you that. Then, at your command," Bruce turned on Thomas, blue eyes granite. "He increased the dose, guaranteeing my boy's eventual death from a cascade of brain damage. I have his confession on tape."

Pennyworth shook his head. "No. They drugged me. Made me say things..."

Bruce shook his head and moved to a nearby console. "See for yourself." He queued up the recording of Alfred's meeting with Pennyworth. Everyone present watched. Owlman was vaguely aware of gasps from Batgirl and low-voiced epithets flowing from Jason. His own emotional reaction was strangely numbed. The sheer breadth of the betrayal took his breath away. Trick. It must be a trick. His eyes flickered from the Pennyworth on the tape to the one restrained in the Batcave. Surely he couldn't have...? Batman had every reason to create an intricate fabrication like this. He knew that Owlman's biggest weaknesses were those very few people he trusted...and loved, because they were Batman's own.

"Why?" Thomas' voice cracked. "Why would he do this?" Blindly, he looked at Bruce Wayne.

Bruce's voice was almost gentle as he replied. "Alfred Pennyworth, your Alfred, loves only one person besides himself: you. He was willing to accept Talon because you seemed so fond of him. But over the years, his jealousy grew." He turned to look at the prone form of his own son. "After Talon rejected you, Pennyworth saw his chance to go back to being first in your affections."

"But...Pennyworth raised me. He must know how important he is to me," Owlman whispered.

"Thomas, I have the unenviable and unique ability to understand you, your motives and your character," Bruce said ruefully. "You are my double, only twisted. You followed your mission in life but found it dark, with the shadows only closing in around you. Then, you met a boy. Where you were dark and full of vengeance, this boy was light and hope. Just standing next to him made you feel lighter and happier. You had to help him; you wanted him for your son, to raise him as the kind of parent you'd never had." Bruce paused as Owlman slowly nodded in agreement.

"So, you know why I took Richard in," Owlman said angrily. "So what?"

"I also know what you lost when Talon rejected you and was murdered," Bruce said softly. "The light went out of your world, didn't it? Somehow, Pennyworth, for all his devotion, just wasn't able to keep the edges of the dark at bay. You had become two aging bachelors in a big house again. All the life, the light, the energy had gone out of the house and you were bereft in the darkness you had created," Bruce said, inexorably. "You began to wonder what it was all for, in the end. You fled to this Earth and what did you find? Another chance, to make things right for Dick Grayson as you hadn't for Richard."

"You do understand, then," Owlman said. "I owe it to Richard to protect him."

"But this Richard owes you nothing. He has his own life, his own friends and family. He refused to become your Talon, so you tried to force him. You are responsible for the death of your own Dick Grayson and now you are killing mine. Look at my son! Look at what you and your henchman have done to him!" Bruce shoved him closer to the table. "You couldn't get him willingly, so you have destroyed him!" Bruce held Owlman by the scruff of the neck and turned him so that they were face to face. "What about my light? Pennyworth says that there is an antidote but, as you have seen, he's refused to give it to us. He claims that you won't believe our proof of Pennyworth's dishonesty. You've seen it now. Who do _you _think is lying?"

Owlman looked from Pennyworth to Bruce and back again. Bruce held out his hands, palms up. "Jason tells me that before he went into seizure, Dick had remembered who he is. You've lost the original purpose for your drugs. Please. Leave me my son."

Owlman looked at Pennyworth and back again at Dick. "I...can't. I need to talk to my Alfred."

The IV bag emptied, but Dick continued to seize. Alfred cleared his throat and said, "I...I don't dare give him any more sedatives. Despite my long experience patching you all up, I am not a doctor. I don't know what to do for him." Shamefacedly, Alfred couldn't meet Batman's eyes. "Perhaps we should take him to the hospital."

"I'm here, but that's not such a bad idea Alfred," Medical bag in hand, Leslie pushed her way through the small crowd. An eyebrow raised when she saw Owlman and the restrained Pennyworth. "Okay, all of you out! Out! I can't do my work with an audience!" She made shooing motions with her free hand and moved over to the side of the gurney. "Okay, Alfred, fill me in..."

"Jason, Barbara," Batman said. "Escort Owlman and Pennyworth to one of the cells. They can share. I think they have a lot to discuss." Bruce caught Thomas' gaze, then both watched as Jason unchained Pennyworth. "There isn't much time."

"You will tell me..." Thomas' voice failed, then he tried again. "I would consider it a great favor if you would tell me how he is doing."

Bruce's fists clenched but he nodded. "I'll keep you updated." Thomas just nodded and allowed his arm to be gripped by Batgirl. The two went quietly into what had previously been Thomas' cell.

Batman strode over to Dick's gurney, where Alfred and Leslie were talking softly. He cleared his throat. "Leslie?"

"What are you still doing here?" she demanded. "I told everyone to leave." She reached into her bag and removed a vial and filled a syringe.

"I can't leave," Batman said. "I wasn't here when he needed me, when the Crime Syndicate had him." He turned to watch his son's body, still seizing, and his own jaw twitched. "They tortured him. They unmasked him and hung him out to dry on planetary television. They killed his friends and allies and I WASN'T THERE for him," he spat. "The closest thing to a friend he had while they were doing all this to him was _that_!" He jerked his chin towards the retreating forms of Owlman and Pennyworth. "Then his _allies_took even his own identity from him. He...Owlman...wants nothing less than Dick's soul and I WASN'T THERE for him." Realizing that he was shaking, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "And now," he said softly. "They are about to take his life from him. And I WILL BE Here for him." He stared at both Alfred and Leslie with an expression as close to pleading as he ever got.

"Stay," Leslie said. "But if there's an antidote, we need it soon."


	32. Thomas and Pennyworth

CHAPTER 32 

* * *

><p>ANOTHER EARTH-A LIFETIME AGO<p>

"I want pizza," his little brother, Bruce, had whined.

"You already ate a hot dog and nachos at the movie, Bruce," Martha Wayne's voice was high-pitched with a note that matched Bruce's.

"But I _want_ pizza, Daddy. I want it nowwwwww!" Bruce strode into the alley. All was going according to plan.

Martha tsk'd. "Just buy the boys what they want, Thomas. Their screeching hurts my ears so." She pulled a compact from her purse and began studying her face.

"But we're on a budget, dear," her husband said helplessly. "I need to save every dollar I can to keep the lawyers fed."

She eyed him with disdain. "Just because you can't stop 'slipping' when you put someone under the knife? Those accidents are adding up, Thomas! And it's hard to deny the pattern as anything but your surgical fetish, you idiot."

While Thomas looked back at where his parents had stopped, he nudged Bruce. His brother nodded and played his part. "Mommy, I want a gun like Zorro's. Make Daddy buy me a Lorcin L 380! Bang! Bang! Ban!"

Suddenly, Martha stilled, glancing over her shoulder. "Wait, Thomas," she said.

"What is it, dear?" Thomas looked around nervously.

"I thought I heard someone in the alley," she said.

"Oh, Mother, that's only me," Thomas said. As his parents turned towards him, they saw that he was holding them at gunpoint, his other hand resting on the shoulder of his brother Bruce, next to him. "Put your hands up."

"What are you doing, Junior?" she demanded. "You put that gun away. You do it right now!"

"No," Thomas said calmly, unaware that Bruce was beginning to shake.

"You listen to me!" she said sharply.

"Bruce and I are never going to listen to either of you again. Because Dad's going to let you throw away our money and leave me and Bruce with nothing...unless we do something about it," Thomas said.

"Tommy!" Bruce's thin voice cut him off. "I..I can't."

"What?" Thomas glared at his little brother.

"I've changed my mind. I don't want to hurt Mom and Dad," Bruce's eyes were big and blue, looking up into his.

"We made a plan, Bruce. A deal. Don't you back out now!" Thomas hissed.

"Stop playing around and get back to the Bentley you brats!" Martha said.

"I'm not playing, Mother," Thomas said coldly and raised the gun.

"No, Tommy!" Bruce shouted and threw himself on his brother. While the two struggled on the ground, Martha pushed in to separate them.

"You stop this foolishness! Eight lashings for each of you!" she squealed. Suddenly, she fell in a spray of blood and an explosive sound. Thomas Wayne Sr. went down next.

While the individual pearls from Martha's necklace spattered over the ground, a familiar voice said, "Bruce? You should've listened to your brother." A third shot rang out and Bruce Wayne fell. Thomas jumped at the report while Alfred Pennyworth, holding a smoking pistol, stepped from the shadows. "It's done, Master Thomas."

Overhead a flock of birds had taken off for the darkened sky, leaving one confused bird perched overhead. "Whooo-whoo! Who are you?" it seemed to be calling to Thomas._ A bird spoke to me that night,_ he reflected later. _Bewildered and confused. Like Bruce as he lay there dying._

"Tom...Tommy?" Bruce whimpered, holding out his hand to his brother.

"Who am I?" Tommy said. "I'm Thomas Wayne, Junior. The richest boy in Gotham City." With Alfred at his back, he carefully aimed his pistol down at his traitorous brother and put the last bullet into him. The loud explosion finally drove the owl flapping into the sky. 

* * *

><p>LATER THAT EVENING<p>

Pennyworth had fetched him a cup of cocoa, watching him drink it. The boy's tears had ended and the boy had reached a state of calm, so Pennyworth felt comfortable going to bed.

What Pennyworth didn't know was that Thomas was still awake, propped up in bed, listening to the quiet, huge, empty house. Where his parents' squabbling voices had once rung through the halls, there was silence. Worse, he didn't hear his little brother, who often came to him with a new toy or a question but always with admiration for a big brother.

He had told Bruce what the plan was and Bruce had _agreed_. He'd _agreed_ and had even run into the alleyway the way they'd planned. But when it came time to kill their parents, Bruce had changed. He had grabbed at Thomas' gun and tried to wrestle it away. He had betrayed his adored big brother, he had betrayed him!

Thomas closed his eyes, reliving the scene all over again. In the end, Bruce had been no better than the rest of the family. Thomas Sr. was a weak man, his mother an overbearing sadist. But Bruce? Bruce was a rat, the worst kind. He had betrayed Thomas and worst of all, there had been no way Thomas could prevent the betrayal. His hand closed into a fist. He was tired of a life, a world, that he couldn't control. Alfred he could control. Alfred was loyal in a way that the rest of his family couldn't be. He sank into sleep that night, certain that he must keep control of his world and especially of the people in it. Not to do so would only court more betrayal. Those who betrayed him?

He remembered sighting on Bruce's tear-stained face to fire the killing shot. Control was the answer. He wouldn't allow himself to be betrayed like that ever again. 

* * *

><p>ROOM B-2 <p>

Pennyworth followed Owlman into the cell, propelled forward by the push that Jason gave him. The boy was glowering when he slammed shut the door.

Pennyworth dusted off his jacket. "Someone should have taught that boy manners," he grumbled. Hearing silence, he noted that Owlman stood with his back to Pennyworth and the door. "Sir?"

Owlman turned around and unfastened his mask and cowl, leaving a man with mussed hair, tired blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow. "What did you do, Alfred?" he asked softly.

"Nothing," the butler maintained. "It's all a lie, induced by drugs."

Thomas bit his lip. "I've known and trusted you all my life, Alfred, but this just won't wash. Don't you think I've known you long enough to tell when you're lying to me?" He sat down on the bunk, suddenly defeated. "Did you kill Richard? Tell me. Just tell me."

Pennyworth let out a long breath. He'd never seen Thomas so worn, not even after finding Talon's body. "I...I couldn't let myself be blackmailed, sir. They would have used me to spy against you if I had allowed that. I couldn't admit it, not to them." Pennyworth's eyes pleaded. _Understand,__** please,**__ Thomas!_ Thomas' eyes, meeting his, remained opaque.

"So, you did it, then? And you hired the _Joker_ to do the job?" Thomas hands fisted and opened again.

"He has been on the...erm...payroll all along. Even before his disfigurement, he was a reliable contractor. He was the one who actually fixed the Graysons' lines and killed the Gordons. I wanted to keep him busy and...well...away from _you_," Alfred said, barely audible.

"Away from me?" Thomas jumped to his feet, facing Alfred. "Did you think so little of my skills that you had to protect me from him, Alfred? I've fought him dozens of times and finally killed him after...after..." His voice broke and he sat down again, wiping his eyes. "How could you, Alfred?"

Alfred sat down beside the man he had raised. "Perhaps my actions weren't right, but I always work to protect you, Thomas. The Joker was becoming more unstable by the day. I couldn't be sure he wouldn't get in a lucky blow and take you down. And as for Talon, he left you! He was a loose cannon. He could have turned on you, joined your enemies or even the authorities! He had become a danger to you! I had to act." He laid a gentle hand on Thomas' shoulder. "_You _have always been my prime concern. Always." When Thomas didn't respond, Alfred removed his hand again. "We did better without the boy, just the two of us, Thomas."

"And what about this boy? Batman's son?" Thomas asked, not meeting his eyes. "What they said about seizures. Is it true?"

When Alfred didn't answer, Thomas turned to face him. "Is it true?" he growled.

"He did have a reaction, that once, but no more seizures after," Alfred said, backing away from the rage he saw in Thomas' face. "So, he was confused, that's a normal reaction to the drugs. And you wanted him made over so badly! You wanted your own Talon back again."

"You were just waiting for him to die," Thomas said. "You knew what the end would be? You were just waiting for me to lose him, too. He would have died slowly, in agony, and I would have been forced to watch." Thomas felt his iron control slipping. More than anything else, he wanted to feel that pasty white neck between his hands while he squeezed the life out of the old man.

"Nothing is without price, Thomas," Alfred said crisply. "You know that. It's the first lesson I ever taught you. Surely you haven't forgotten that. You wanted freedom and the preservation of the Wayne fortune, so we removed your family. You wanted this Talon and I gave him to you the only way I could. It isn't my fault that the only workable method is lethal to him."

Thomas' eyes widened. Had Alfred always been this cold? This calculating? How long had he been living in his own fatuous paradise? "You really wanted to kill him, didn't you? What is Dick Grayson to you?"

Alfred drew a long sigh. "Dick Grayson is yet another danger to you. First Richard and now this boy, they both comprise distractions. They make you vulnerable. Do you think that Ultraman and all the rest don't know where your heart lies? Capture or torture the boy and they can destroy you! You would kill yourself going to his rescue; you have almost died saving him in the past!"

Thomas barked a laugh. "So you decided to do it for them! First, you arranged Richard's death _for me_." He drew close to his butler, voice heavy with menace. "I could have brought him home. If I could just have gotten him to listen, he would have come home."

The old man looked at him with pity. "Richard's mind was made up and it was because of your decision to, as you put it, 'come clean'. You knew how he idolized his parents. He was half in love with the Gordon girl before you murdered her and her father! You chose to ignore my advice and tell Richard everything. You cannot lay this entirely at my door. Had you lied, like I told you to, he would still be alive and, thankfully, ignorant. But the greater truth remains. From the day you brought him home from the circus, this boy was your weak spot. I only acted to protect you!"

"And Dick Grayson? What danger is he to me?" Thomas waved a shaking hand towards the medical bay. "He's dying!"

"Look around you!" Alfred said coldly. "This boy has allies, or should I say family! And yet, you were so hot to make him your replacement Talon that you couldn't take his 'no' for an answer. No, we had to kidnap and drug him into a duplicate of Richard. I went along with it because you wouldn't listen to reason and so, here we are!"

"Yes. Here we are," Thomas snarled. "We have lost our freedom and my Talon both! Were you ever going to tell me about the drug's effect? You weren't, were you?" His right hand curled into a fist and he advanced on the old man. Alfred stayed right where he was, chin up, and faced him. Just before he would have thrown the punch, Thomas deflated, his hand falling to his side. "Do you have an antidote?"

"I do, but you shouldn't prolong this farce any longer, Thomas. Let the boy die and we can get on with our lives. Batman won't kill us. Everyone in Gotham agrees that, regardless of the provocation, he doesn't kill. He didn't, even after his second Robin was murdered. I imagine that we can break free of any prison he chooses to put us in, bar this one," Alfred looked around the cell. "I doubt he'd want to keep us here much longer. Thomas?"

Thomas had sunk onto the bunk, hands covering his face. He turned reddened eyes towards Pennyworth. "You really don't get it, do you?" Thomas said. "I love the boy. I don't want to hurt him! He is Richard Grayson, the same as my Richard Grayson, my son! If I can't have him as my Talon….I don't want him to just die….He doesn't deserve that."

Alfred looked up from examining his nails. "Well, that is a first, Thomas. Your family was no use to you, so we removed them. Your brother Bruce betrayed you and we removed him as well as a thousand enemies since then. You kill as easily as you would swat a fly, and have filled entire graveyards in Gotham with your kills. Yet you claim that love is a sufficient reason for allowing a danger to you to exist?" He sneered as he pronounced the word 'love'.

Thomas looked at the man who had raised him, truly looked at him for the first time and reality began to dawn. "This isn't about Richard, is it?" Thomas said. "This is about you…and me. Batman was right, you are jealous of the time I spent with Richard, the fact that I considered him family and just as important to me as you were."

"More important," Alfred said. "That boy was more important than I ever was! I raised you, protected you, supported you. I killed your enemies. I smoothed the way for you in every way open to me. You were barely aware of a threat before I had it handled." He moved in close to his adopted son. "You decided to dress up like a giant owl and take to the nighttime streets of Gotham. I designed and tailored the suit for you, stuffed it with protective gear and waited anxiously until you finally came home." Beginning to pace, Pennyworth spoke faster. "I doctored your hurts, nursed you when you were seriously injured. I covered for you with the Wayne Industries Board, so that they wouldn't know about your secret life! I loved you like a son!...Love….you…" Pennyworth stopped, lips moving silently.

"Old friend," Thomas said, new ice solidifying in the darkness where his heart used to be. He made his voice gentle and placating. "I never thanked you, did I? I just assumed that you would always be there. Don't you see? It was never a question of being first. I loved you both. You do realize that Batman won't let this go? If the boy dies, he will blame us and he will see that we are punished. He might not kill, but some things are worse. Give me the antidote and I'll give it to Batman. Once the boy recovers, he'll let us go. And I promise that I will never seek out Dick Grayson ever again."

Alfred looked up hopefully. "Never? You will give up the idea of another Talon entirely?"

"I will, old friend," Thomas said. "I should have listened to you. You were right. Adopting Richard Grayson was a mistake from the very beginning. I'll give it up."

Alfred smiled and his entire demeanor lightened. "I can compound it. I simply need a laboratory to use. Oh, I am so very glad you've come to your senses, sir!"

Thomas nodded and immediately began to pound on the door. Jason answered it and heard Thomas without apparent surprise, leading the two of them to a lab set up. He was right, they had been monitored.

Pennyworth went to work promptly and soon produced a large vial of liquid. "Give 30 cc's of this via IV. The effects should be seen immediately." Jason said something into his comm unit and Batgirl arrived quickly to take the vial. Wordlessly, Jason returned them to the cell.

Back again, Thomas wondered about Pennyworth. Could he have concocted a poison? That would ensure Thomas' 'safety' from the threat that the boy posed. He didn't think so. Pennyworth had seemed to believe Thomas' reassurance and he truly hoped he had. Much depended on what happened now.

Six hours later, they heard multiple footsteps outside the door. It was opened by Batman, cowl back in place and jaw clenched in icy fury. Thomas saw the rest of the bat-family gathered behind him: Jason, Batgirl, Alfred, even Timothy, the third Robin had arrived. They all looked grim, even...murderous. Thomas glanced at Pennyworth who looked, if possible, even paler than he had before.

"He's dead," Batman said starkly. "He went into convulsions again and we couldn't stop them."

Thomas turned questioningly to Pennyworth. "What did you do? What did you give him?" He found he was shouting.

"J...just what you told me to, sir. I formulated the antagonist to the original drug. He...he...he shouldn't have died. It should have cured him..." Pennyworth saw his own death in the bats' faces , repeated in Thomas' own. "It was the real thing, sir! Honestly!"

"Get out," Batman said curtly. "Jason, Tim, take these...these...persons away from the manor and leave them. And," he turned to his sons. "_**Don't **_kill them or hurt them in any way. I don't want to see either one of them again. Take the plane. I don't care where you drop them off, just take them away from Gotham. Far away."

Hard hands grabbed the two of them and frog marched them to the flight deck where they were strapped in to two seats. Owlman wondered if they would ever make it to whatever their destination was. He wouldn't be surprised if they were tossed out of the plane somewhere over the Atlantic and, knowing that his second chance, his new Talon was dead, he really didn't care.

Pennyworth sat beside him, muttering, "But I didn't, sir. This time, I truly didn't kill anyone! It was the antidote, the real antidote." Thomas turned his head away and looked out the window, letting Pennyworth's babble flow over him and be drowned out by the sound of the engines.


	33. Antagonist

CHAPTER 33

SEVEN HOURS AGO

Shaken by his own outburst, Batman watched Alfred and Leslie go to work. Gradually, the quivering in Dick's body slowed and stopped. He seemed to be merely sleeping, until you noticed his unusually pale skin and utter stillness. He took comfort from the lack of urgency in Alfred and Leslie. If Dick were in immediate trouble, they'd be moving faster.

Batgirl moved in next to him and tugged her cowl down. "Jason's taking watch in the monitoring room. Has anything changed?"

Batman shook his head. "No. He seems to be stable for the moment. Thomas and Pennyworth are back in their cell deciding whether to give us the antidote. Why don't you take the opportunity and take a nap. Have something to eat."

"I would suggest that for both of you," Alfred said, from Dick's bedside. "There is nothing you can do for him just now, sir. Rest. I left some beef bourguignon in a crockpot in the kitchen. Please help yourselves."

Batman and Batgirl both stood obstinately until Alfred came over and put a hand on the shoulder of each. "He won't know you've gone. And, in any case, I am confident that Master Dick himself would insist that you take a break. I will watch over him here and I will contact you immediately if anything changes." He met Bruce's eyes when he said that last. It wasn't often that Bruce's barriers fell, but tonight both he and Leslie had seen a side of him that rarely appeared: loving parent. Finally Batman nodded.

"He's right, Barbara. Let's go." He turned and led her upstairs.

After they had left the batcave, Alfred sidled next to Leslie. "What do you think?"

Dr. Thompkins rubbed her eyes. "Alfred, you know that I'm not a neurologist. I'm just a general practitioner and even with the experience I've picked up treating all your batboys for concussion, this is completely beyond my experience. You're telling me that this drug or whatever it is comes from an alternate Earth? We're not even talking alien tech here but something from outside our universe? All I can do is monitor Dick's symptoms, do whatever my diagnostic tech allows me to do and treat him as best I can. " She sounded frustrated and he didn't blame her. He doubted that she saw many little green men in her clinic. Thinking of a certain Martian of his acquaintance, he amended that: big green men.

"Because of the potential prion-like effect on Master Dick, even if we do find a cure for him, what kind of after-effects will he be left with?" Alfred asked gently, arms folded, as much for comfort as for warmth.

"How should I know?" Leslie threw up her hands. "The fact that Dick has survived to adulthood, given the life he lives, is a miracle by itself! We don't have a cure for prion diseases on this planet. We can hope, Alfred. That's all that's left us. And I hope that Owlman turns over the antagonist." 

* * *

><p>GREEN BEDROOM<p>

After a brief meal, Barbara went to her usual guestroom. Wayne Manor was big enough for the regular allies each to maintain a room there. She took a long, hot shower and dressed in loose sweats, dressed in case Dick needed her.

She curled up on the big bed, tucking the duvet around her. Always an off and on couple, before the Crime Syndicate had landed, they'd been more off than on. _And whose fault is that?_ She wrinkled her nose. She knew perfectly well that she didn't treat Dick very well but couldn't seem to change her behavior. After this, what would be left of him? Would he still have that goofy sense of humor? Would he even be able to smile? Or would he just be a husk? If Dick were physically crippled somehow, lost that magnificent grace and balance that were his birthright..."It would be better if he died..." she whispered to herself. 

* * *

><p>MASTER BEDROOM<p>

Knowing that Alfred was right, Bruce had dutifully eaten a plateful of, what did he call it? Beef Bourguinon? Beef stew without tasting it. He'd made sure that Barbara had something to eat, then escorted her upstairs. From there, it was only a few steps to his own room. Which was across from Dick's childhood bedroom. He couldn't keep from opening the door a crack and peering inside.

The sports posters were still there, the criminology and forensics manuals he'd made a young Robin memorize. Two stuffed animals caught his attention. A brightly colored stuffed elephant sat next to a moth-eaten teddy bear. What was the elephant's name? Peanut? Elinor? He didn't remember. He did remember the bear. Dick had inadvertently left it behind the night his parents died.

After the boy had come to Wayne Manor, he hadn't slept well, even with his elephant. Late one evening, Bruce had heard him call out for "Ted" and realized that one precious toy had been left behind. Batman had made it his business to track down the Graysons' old trailer and found the toy. The look of joy on Dick's face when he tucked him into bed with elephant and teddy was incandescent. Bruce had never forgotten that night. He hoped that Dick would still be able to remember it when this was over.

Slowly, he went to his room and stripped off his uniform, then stood in a shower. Showers were good places when you couldn't hold tears at bay anymore. Nobody could see them and you could tell yourself it was just water. His room had been soundproofed when he adopted Dick, to prevent Bruce's nighttime amours from disturbing the boy. He had privacy at last.

Thomas. And that demented version of Alfred. He hoped that he had read Thomas correctly. He thought that Owlman did love Dick Grayson, enough to pressure Alfred into producing the antidote. Certainly, based on Bruce's experience of his own Alfred, nothing could move a Pennyworth when his mind is made up, except loyalty.

Bruce was never certain whether he had slept much, or at all. His mind kept turning over and over, visions of Dick being unmasked on television, the beaten expression on his face, made Bruce's eyes open wide. He wished it had been only a nightmare. If only he'd been there, he could have prevented this somehow. He rolled over yet again, mind spinning circles. If...when Dick recovered, what then? It would be easy to follow the ex-Nightwing to Bruce Wayne and draw the logical conclusions. A good news-hound like Vicki could connect the dots in any case; Dick had been Bruce's ward for years. Batman's identity stood in jeopardy, along with his effectiveness. Of course, this could have happened at any time. He sat up, punched his pillow and tried to sleep again. He had to find something for Dick, some kind of life for him after this, some new identity. But what?

_Better if he were dead._ That thought made Bruce's eyes shoot open. He sat up and rubbed his face. No..nonononono...never that. Never dead! He remembered when Jason died, that emptiness filled with darkness and guilt. Thomas was right, after all. Bruce had traded one Robin's life for another. Joker could just as easily have lured Dick to his death as Jason, and much of Bruce's grief and rage had stemmed from that realization. He'd put a young, barely-trained, overconfident boy into a cape and mask and expected the same experience and mastery as a boy who had been doing the job for seven years. The fault for Jason's murder lay squarely at Batman's door. That he had Jason back was a minor miracle, for which he thanked a God he doubted, every day. But if he were to lose Dick...Bruce gulped and allowed his mind to consider the possibility.

Bruce trusted very few people, and only two people had his complete and abiding trust: Alfred Pennyworth and Richard "Dick" Grayson. Oh, he trusted Barbara, Jason and Tim to varying degrees. With his life? Certainly. With his reputation? Absolutely. With his soul, good and bad? Alfred knew him from childhood. Dick had seen him drunk, sober, drugged, murderous, even abusive and his loyalty had never wavered. Not by an inch. Dick had told him that he would die for him and Bruce knew that it was the truth. Now it was up to him to make sure that Dick never had to. Everything lay in Thomas' hands now. 

* * *

><p>GREEN ROOM<p>

Barbara was awakened by the intercom. "Yes?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"They have capitulated," said Alfred's triumphant voice. "Jason is supervising them in the laboratory while Pennyworth compounds the antagonist. It should be finished shortly."

"I'll be right down," She said, getting up. "Have you called Bruce?'

"No, I will let him rest a bit longer," Alfred said.

"I'll be right there," Barbara said doubtfully. Bruce wouldn't be happy to arrive late, but she supposed that Alfred knew what he was doing.

In the laboratory, Jason stood guard over Pennyworth and Owlman. Barbara stood to one side, then moved next to Jason.

"Can you tell what they're doing?" Barbara asked.

Jason shrugged. "My chemistry is good enough to build a great Molotov Cocktail and update my explosives. What they're doing now? I have no idea."

"Owlman," Barbara called. "What are you doing?"

Thomas' face held worry as he looked over his shoulder. "Pennyworth has agreed to compound Richard's cure. Beyond that, he lost me several steps ago."

Staring at his work before him, Pennyworth continued working. "Master Thomas has asked me for the cure for the boy. In exchange, he has agreed to leave Dick Grayson in Batman's hands, and not to make any further attempts to recruit him. " He carefully measured two test tubes, then combined the liquids. "Accordingly, I am preparing the antidote, as requested." He capped the remaining fluid and gave it a good shake. "Yes, that will be it."

Jason stepped forward while Barbara took his flank. "That's it?"

Pennyworth nodded. "Give him 30 cc's in his IV. You should see results shortly."

"Here, you get this to Alfie. I'll take them," Jason nodded at the two criminals." back to their cell."

Barbara nodded back and carefully walked the flagon over to Alfred and Leslie. "I think this is it," she said, handing it to the doctor. "Pennyworth said, 30 cc's in the IV and we should see results soon."

Leslie held it up to the light, pondering, while Alfred woke the master.

Bruce was still pulling on his clothing as he arrived in the cave. "You have it?" he asked breathlessly.

"We have something," Leslie said doubtfully. "How much do you trust these men?"

"It could as easily be poison," Alfred added. "We simply don't know."

"Have you tested it?" Bruce asked.

"Do you mean, do we know what's in it?" Leslie asked. "No. Not really. A complete assay would take longer than he has," she nodded towards Dick, lying on the table. "I'd want to try animal studies to monitor effects if this were a new drug."

"And we don't have time," Bruce finished, eyeing Dick, motionless on the table. "His seizures have stopped?"

"We have them stopped for now, but his EEG reads abnormal," Leslie said gently. "Dick my never recover complete brain function after this."

Bruce fixed his gaze on his former partner, then looked back at the flask in Leslie's hand. He took a long breath, then let it out. "Then he has nothing to lose. Give it to him, Leslie."

An hour after the drug was administered, nothing had changed. They sat, waiting: Bruce, Leslie, Alfred, Jason and Barbara, when they heard a motorcycle engine. Swift footsteps echoed in the cave and Red Robin, aka Tim Drake strode over to them.

"How is he?" Tim asked, pulling off his cowl. "Is he any better?"

Bruce came over and gave Tim a hearty handshake that Tim transmuted into a hug. "He isn't better," Bruce said. "But he isn't worse. Is it all wrapped up now?"

Tim nodded. "Yeah, the Resistance is folding up now that the war is over. The rest of the Titans are supervising shutdown, so I can be here." He glanced over at Dick. "I just don't understand. When I talked to him, he didn't remember anything but he was fully aware."

"He went into seizures today, "Barbara said, sitting on a nearby bench. "Owlman finally gave us the antidote, and we gave it to Dick an hour ago. But nothing's happening."

"Nothing that we are recording has happened," Alfred said thoughtfully, glancing at Leslie. "Perhaps an MRI would give us some information?"

Leslie eyed the anxious faces surrounding her and finally agreed. "All right. It can't hurt anything and it would be good to take a look. Let's get him prepped and in."

* * *

><p>Dick heard noises for a long time before he really woke up: a familiar sort of banging sound. Somebody punching a wall? No. Somebody punching a metal trash can? Closer. Tossing weights into a dumpster? Better. Tossing him into an empty dumpster? He smiled. That one was familiar, but it was too rhythmic a "Bam! Bam!" sound and besides, nothing hurt, except maybe his head. Wow. That was a headache. Last night must have been great, he couldn't even remember it. Roy and Wally and beer, maybe? No, he didn't think so. He didn't smell anything like day-old booze or old vomit. He sniffed. He didn't smell much at all, except for maybe a faint rubbing alcohol smell. Bang! Boom! went the trash cans. Time to get up and see what's going on.<p>

He opened his eyes, only to see rounded metal about six inches from the tip of his nose. He tried to sit up, but couldn't. His arms were pinned, too. Vague memories of his arms being pinned and a beating floated by, followed by even worse ones of an interrogation and him blurting out everything, hanging his friends out to dry. Lasso of Submission, that was it. It had forced him to betray everyone he knew and loved. At least, he thought so. But then that memory fragmented and he remembered being Talon, Owlman's partner and son.

Everything was broken up and confused. He saw Bruce and Thomas and remembered helping Thomas to shake down some gangsters for money. But he also remembered Jason. He saw Jason, down and beaten bloody on the pavement. Dick must have done it. He remembered wanting to kill him, he was so mad at Jason's mockery. Yeah, Jason had done something to him and he'd gotten mad and decided to beat him to death. But there was a...trapeze? He'd been helping Thomas...Owlman...and ohmygod what had he done? He'd killed Two Face on the dock...ohmygod, there was no coming back from that. Not ever. Not with Bruce. He had to get out of here, had to get away from Bruce. He'd killed Two Face but he'd also killed Jason!

Overwhelming shame flooded him. Bad enough he'd let himself be caught, but they'd unmasked him. He remembered it now. He was wrung dry by the Lasso. He was useless to them, but for One. More. Thing. A final humiliation that he could never, ever come back from. He had faced multiple cameras, propped up under bright lights, his body such a mass of pain that he couldn't identify individual injuries. And then she'd taken a loose edge of his mask and ripped it off. His skin stung when the spirit gum gave way, then he felt cold and defenseless, the bright lights piercing his eyes. He wanted, tried to shrink away, but that damned lasso held him fast. Laughing, she grabbed his chin and made him face the camera. While the camera panned across his face, she read off his name and address, then held out his driver's license that showed his real identity: Dick Grayson, formerly of Gotham City, child of the Flying Graysons, raised by Bruce Wayne, now called Nightwing. While one camera stayed trained on his face, another showed news clippings from his past: his parents' death, his adoption by Bruce Wayne, first Robin's exploits, then Nightwing's.

Everything, everything he ever was, stripped bare under those lights and beamed into a million t.v. sets. Then the warning-they were tracking down all his friends and family and there would be no mercy. Ohmygod. How much did they get? How much do they know? I...I killed two people for them. What else have I done? Who else have I killed? I should have stopped them! Why couldn't I stop them? It's my fault. All my fault! He heard the Bang! Bang? and wanted to cover his ears but couldn't. Instead, he closed his eyes and screamed, a howl of anguish.

Outside the MRI, Bruce stood with Alfred and Leslie in the control room. Bruce saw movement in the camera. "He's awake! Get him out of there! Shut it down!"

Quickly, Alfred hit the switch and they heard the sound of soul, howling in torment.

"Shit!" Bruce gasped and flung himself through the doorway. Without waiting for Alfred to mechanically withdraw the table, Bruce undid the restraints and hauled Dick out of the machine.

Eyes wild, Dick struck back.


	34. Six Hours

CHAPTER 34-Six Hours

Author's Note: This chapter takes place during the six hours that Owlman and Pennyworth sat together in their cell, waiting to find out whether the antidote had saved Dick Grayson in Chapter 32. 

* * *

><p>With the swift movement that had made Batman famous, Bruce caught Dick's attempted uppercut with his left hand and held it in place. Startled, Dick looked up at his assailant and recognized him.<p>

Memory, the memories, were inexorable. The last time they'd met, he'd tried to _kill _him. Dick had been Thomas' Talon and seen everyone in bat-attire as an enemy and _him_ most of all. Dick had laughed with glee when he saw the man dressed as a bat bleeding his life out. Talon had perched over _his_ chest and driven the knife in further, convinced that it was a heart shot, waiting for him to die. Dick blinked, eyes focusing on Bruce Wayne, holding his blow stopped in mid-air.

Bruce's face was turning white and he was sweating. The bandage under his left armpit was seeping red. _Ohmigod!_ Dick abruptly pulled his fist back and retreated away as fast as he could move. He was met by a metal wall and turned. He was in the MRI room and there was no exit, except past _him_.

"Dick," Bruce said gently. "Dick...It's me, Bruce. Don't you remember me?"

Eyes flooded with tears, Dick nodded and crouched into the corner, hands over his face and knees pulled to his chest. Breathing heavily, he shut his eyes. He was so very ashamed of himself, he couldn't bear for Bruce to see him. He had memories of killing people. He had almost killed Bruce himself. He had _enjoyed_ it. What kind of a monster had he become? All he wanted was to hide away in some dark place where he could never be found.

He heard footsteps beside him, felt a hand on his shoulder. Bruce's voice, softer than he had heard it in years. "Dick, whatever it is that's bothering you, it's okay. We can fix it."

Dick shook his head violently and shrugged away from the hand. "You can't fix murder," he said thickly. "I...I killed and I...tried to kill you. And I liked it!" He looked up to meet Bruce's concerned gaze. "I wanted you dead. When I saw you start to bleed, I only wanted to stab you until your heart stopped. I felt _glee_ when you started bleeding out! I...I don't belong here, with you. Call Gordon. He can take me to Arkham where I belong!" He held out both wrists. "Why don't you just cuff me and put me back in my cell for now?"

Bruce just stared, frowning. "You know I'd never do that to you. You aren't my enemy."

Dick shook his head. "I was. I have been. Heck, in the inner recesses of my mind I might still be. Bruce...Owlman did his best to make me a murderer. He did make me kill! First Harvey Dent, then Jason..."

"Wait!" Bruce interrupted. "You believe that you killed Jason?"

"Yeah. At least, I remember seeing him pounded into the pavement. And the rain was coming down. Owlman told me I did it." Dick's eyes widened with sudden hope. "Didn't I?"

Without breaking eye contact, Bruce called to Alfred, "Get Jason in here!" He took Dick's arm, gently but firmly. "Come on, there is some footage I want you to see."

As they left the room, Dick glanced anxiously around. "Shouldn't you get Tim or Babs to go with us? In case I'm dangerous?"

"Like I said before, you aren't my enemy," Bruce said calmly. "And I know that you won't hurt me."

Dick glanced at the bandage under Bruce's arm. "That says otherwise."

"I'll make you a deal, chum," Bruce finally said. "If you start feeling murderous, you tell me, and I'll have you restrained. Okay?"

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Dick just nodded his head and sat down before the big monitor screen.

"I want you to watch this. It's some surveillance footage that shows how Harvey Dent really died," Bruce hit a button. Dick saw himself, as Talon, rushing over to Dent and hitting him, Dent striking the railing and then Owlman approaching Dent. Bruce stopped the tape at the crucial moment and enlarged the picture.

"See that?" Bruce zoomed in on Owlman's hand. "He's wearing a poison ring."

Dick looked closely as Bruce zoomed the picture even further, then sank back into his seat. "But..."

"You believed you had killed Dent, but you didn't. Here is some objective evidence, Dick," Bruce said and brought up the coroner's report on the screen. "He was poisoned. His heart was stopped for him by Owlman." He turned to his boy. "Dick, he needed you to believe that you had the potential to be a killer, the kind of man Thomas is. He knew that I had raised you with a code of honor. He also knew, based on his own Richard Grayson, how deep your loyalties run. To corrupt them, he lied to you and he kept lying. When you didn't believe him, he added drugs to the mix to force you to become the Talon he wanted."

"You wanted me?" a young voice came from behind them.

Dick and Bruce turned around as one, to see Jason Todd standing there. He was casually dressed in jeans and t-shirt, wearing his leather jacket. At their stares, he checked his fly, then examined his clothing for stains. "What's up? Why are you looking at me like I just sprouted three heads or something?"

"But I killed you..." Dick said softly. "You were lying on the pavement and the rain was coming down on top of you..."

"That?" Jason made a dismissive motion. "That wasn't you, Dickiebird. You were being hauled away by that green-haired hench-butler of Owlman's. Owlman was the one that beat the crap out of me. But it takes somebody a whole hell of a lot stronger ta kill me, and it sure as hell wasn't you!" Jason flashed a smile. "Besides, don't you remember getting your ass whupped by me on the trapeze just a few hours ago? Your memory was coming back and then you blacked out and fell. First time I ever saw you fall from a trapeze."

"I..." Dick frowned, then closed his eyes. Finally, he sighed. "I sort of remember you being a jerk and me trying to...um...kill you while we were on the trapeze. But then, it's all black." He opened his eyes again. "It's like I've got two sets of memories and I can't figure out what actually happened and what didn't."

"Trust me that you haven't killed anyone, to the best of our knowledge, Dick," Bruce said. "Owlman used you as his bagman a few times but you haven't killed anyone."

Dick looked at him wistfully. "I just wish I could clear my head. Bruce, I've been trained to be a killer. You're all in danger from me." Seeing Bruce's shaken expression, he went on. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I remember you, but I also remember Thomas, too. I...remember...killing multiple people as a child and being happy that I'd made Thomas proud. I liked killing; it gave me a rush."

"This will probably take a while, Dick, but I have evidence for everything I'm saying. Yes?" Bruce said to Alfred, who was suddenly at his elbow.

"Sir, Dr. Thompkins wishes to examine Master Dick and to take another EEG reading. May we borrow him?"

Bruce looked at Dick, who was white-faced and almost trembling with weariness. "By all means. Dick, we'll talk later. Okay?"

Dick forced a smile. "Sure. We'll talk." Head hanging, he walked back to the medical center with Alfred.

Bruce watched, jaw set.

"So, Dick is pretty fucked up, isn't he?" Jason said conversationally.

"Yeah," was all Bruce could say. 

* * *

><p>FOUR HOURS<p>

"I have some results," Dr. Thompkins approached a silent and suited Batman at his computer.

"Yes?" he said. Funny, she noted, when Bruce donned the mask, his approachability dropped to almost zero. Must be how he deals with difficult emotions. Taking his response as an instruction to share her findings, she sat in the neighboring chair and took the keyboard.

"He isn't doing badly," she said, pulling up a scan. "This is the interrupted MRI, comparing it to an old, normal MRI, you see some deterioration. Now, we just did another MRI and see how much it's changed, just in a few hours!"

Batman squinted at the pictures. "The current scan looks more like the first one."

"Almost exactly like the normal scan. He's healing. That's not something we've ever believed that the brain could do! Retrain itself, reroute around damaged areas, but never this. He's recovering the ground he lost to the drug. His EEG's are also normalizing." Leslie put up a series of EEG's. "Here is one from six months ago, a normal EEG to use as a control. This next one I took while he was seizing."

"It's different," Batman said.

"And not in a good way. This last one I just took. It's identical to the control." She smiled, almost dancing with joy. It wasn't often she had home runs like this in her practice, especially with one of the bats.

Batman, however, simply glowered at the screen. "So, physically, he's doing better."

"Yes. He'll need some recovery time, of course. He's been through a lot, and that's including the trauma he's suffered since the Crime Syndicate captured him."

"Physically, yes," Batman continued as if she hadn't spoken. "But psychologically? What's your impression?"

Dr. Thompkins, her ebullience thoroughly punctured, exhaled. "Psychologically? He's not himself."

"Can you be more specific?" Batman asked.

"Batman, you know this as well as I do. His identity was stripped away from him, almost methodically. First he lost Nightwing, then Dick Grayson was destroyed. He was still reeling from that, when Owlman started working on him. He's going to need some time."

"But will he have that time?" Batman said quietly. "The entire world knows that Dick Grayson is Nightwing, who was the first Robin and my partner. How long will it take his enemies to start hunting him? Leslie, is Dick capable of defending himself?"

Leslie's eyes were staring into the middle distance, envisioning the fallout that was about to hit the boy she'd watched grow up. "Defend himself? My God, Bruce! He can barely walk a straight line right now! No. He's incapable of strategizing or planning right now, much less sustained combat. And he knows it."

"He does?" Batman sat bolt upright. "What did he say to you?"

"Just that," she said sadly. "He feels that he's become a liability, one who, if he doesn't try to kill you himself, will inevitably bring trouble upon you when his enemies come after him. He thinks things would be better if he had died."

Batman was silent a moment. "Where is he now?"

"He's back in his cell. He refused to be taken upstairs to his bedroom," Leslie replied. "Would you like me to recommend a therapist for him?"

"What? A psychologist?" Batman asked. "Maybe later. Let me try something else, first."

Leslie shook her head. "Bruce, this isn't something that you can just shake out of him in a sparring match. I can prescribe some antidepressants for him, they might help..."

"No!" Batman's face was icy. "No drugs. He's had enough drugs. We'll let him rest for now but I know that we can find a solution. Dick's strong, both physically and mentally. He's come back from other injuries before."

Leslie paused, trying to find the words. She shook her head, dispensing with tact. "He's never been stripped naked in public, Bruce, because that's what this amounts to. And he's never betrayed you and your values before, quite so deeply." She shot him a look of compassion. "Dick has always been your shadow, your second self. Your values became his the moment he put on the mask and cape at the age of nine."

"He hasn't betrayed me," Batman's fists clenched on the desk in front of him. "Everything he did, he was forced into. The rest is the result of Owlman's damned brainwashing!"

"People in Chicago died. People he loved," she said softly. "You and everyone Dick cares for were threatened, all because he was captured and unmasked. I know how very carefully you and your family guard your identities; that's your first rule. Dick broke it. And now, he needs to recover from it."

"He needs to recover from it in safety, Leslie. How do I keep him safe?" Batman growled. "I didn't protect him when they had him; couldn't get to him in time. They'll be coming for him if he shows up on the streets... anywhere. He can't stay here forever. And Owlman cannot, must not know where he is!"

"I can't disagree with that!" Leslie blew a stray hair off her forehead. "I'm going back to the clinic. I'll check on him tomorrow, but call me if there are any dramatic changes in his condition or if he has any seizures."

"We will," Batman stood and reached out to shake Leslie's hand. "You've done miracles again, Leslie. Thank you for saving him."

She shook her head. "You and yours saved his life. Now he will have to save his own soul." She took his hand in both of hers and squeezed. "Take care of him and take care of yourself, too." 

* * *

><p>FIVE HOURS<p>

Batman called the only one he thought could remedy the situation.

"Watchtower," J'onn J'onzz said crisply.

"It's Batman," Batman replied. "I'm actually calling for you, J'onn. D'you think you could stop by Gotham City?"

"What is wrong?" J'onn asked. "We are still cleaning up after the Crime Syndicate. Superman has discovered a way to reopen the portal between Earths. He plans to return them to their own ruined planet."

"Good idea," Batman said absently. "But I really do need your help with something. Uh...did you see the television footage about Nightwing?"

J'onn's expression changed to one of sadness. "Yes, I did see it. How is he?"

Batman's hand tightened on the desk. "Not well. He was given some false memories by Owlman. They are proving...troublesome."

"And you want me to remove them?" J'onn replied, troubled. "Batman, you of all people know that it is wrong to tamper with the memories of others. When the League had Zatanna remove Dr. Light's memories, it lobotomized him. When you discovered that she had also removed your own of what had happened to the doctor, you were very upset. You know the kind of damage I could do if I tried it with Nightwing. I am sorry, truly sorry, but I cannot do this." 

* * *

><p>FIVE HOURS AND THIRTY MINUTES<p>

Dick lay on his bunk in the cell. As long as they thought he was sleeping, they'd leave him alone. That was safest, for now. Two dueling sets of memories fought for place in his brain: flying through the air, killing his way through the room, at Owlman's command. He also remembered Bruce sitting with him during his nightmares. Harvey Dent, stellar District Attorney in Thomas' Gotham, brought down by Owlman but later killed by Talon in this Gotham City. But Bruce said he hadn't and had documents to prove it.

"Lies, all Bruce Wayne does is a lie!" Thomas' voice whispered to him.

"Trust me," said Bruce. "We can fix this."

"Batman is a faithless coward who hides in the shadows," Pennyworth whispered. "Owlman will always have your interests at heart. He is your adopted father. You owe him."

"I love you like a son," said Thomas, whose face morphed into Bruce's. Bruce was telling a judge "Please, don't take him away! I love that boy like a son!"

He sat up and clutched his head. The voices wouldn't _stop_. They just wouldn't shut up!

Then he remembered his interrogation under the Lasso of Submission. He had tried so hard to save lives, to lie and save his newest friends in Chicago. He had sold them all out, every one of them. Every address, every phone number had tumbled from his lips. He had even given physical descriptions of the people he'd known. Then she, the woman who looked like Diana Prince, had turned to Gotham. He was glad that most of his Gotham friends had moved out of the City, they might still be alive. And then he'd almost gotten Babs killed. And Tim. And Jason. He didn't think he'd given them away, his memories were hazy, and he'd seen Babs and Jason. That's right, he'd spoken with Tim, so he was all right too. He sighed with the relief of it, then remembered the people in Chicago again.

"Not your fault," Owlman's voice in his head said. "Nobody can beat the Lasso of Submission."

Batman's voice said something else. "If ever you are interrogated, lie. Lie so that when you finally have to tell the truth, they won't be able to tell the difference. Be as literal in answering their questions as you can, so that you are truthful but still don't give a full answer. But most important, and I cannot stress this enough, Robin," Batman had removed his eyepieces and made contact with a young Robin. "Most important, don't let them get that far! Do NOT get caught. NEVER give up your true identity! If you tell them who you really are, you not only get yourself killed but also every innocent person who supports us! "

Innocents had died because of him. His job was to save people, not to become a victim who had to be saved himself. He had incompetently allowed himself to be captured, then had spilled almost everything he knew.

"You are a Talon, Richard. You are responsible to no one except me," Owlman insisted. "Charity begins at home!"

"Don't trust Batman," Pennyworth hissed again.

"Kill him. If you get a chance, bring down the Bat! Only then will you be free!" Owlman repeated.

He got up and shook his head violently, trying to silence them without effect. Finally, he braced himself against the concrete walls of his cell and started to beat his head against it, praying for unconsciousness or, better yet, death. Either would give him silence.


	35. Protecting Your Own

Author's Note: I'm sorry this tale is running so long. Honestly, I thought I'd be finished by now but we really are in the home stretch here. I have to follow the logic of the story and not cut it off or you'll be mad at me :) Two more chapters at most. The toughest part has been figuring out what to do with Dick Grayson when the dust settles, something I think DC bungled.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 35<p>

Barbara watched the screen as Dick began pounding his head against the wall. "Dammit!" Quickly, she hit a button, opening a channel to the batcave.

"Urgent! Get to Dick's cell, stat! He's trying to suicide!"

She opened the voice channel to Dick's cell. "Dick? Dick, it's me, Babs! Stop it! Stop that!"

Dick paused momentarily, looking towards the camera embedded in the ceiling. Blood ran down his forehead and dripped off his chin. He gave her a rueful, if bloody smile, and returned to the wall.

"Voices. Won't. Stop!" He grunted with each blow. "Can't. Endanger. You! Already done too much!"

The door crashed open and a crowd of bodies dove into the cell. Batman got to Dick first, tackling him to the floor. Dick wriggled away in true Nightwing form, only to be pounced on by Tim and Jason. He was halfway out of their hold when Alfred showed up, hypodermic in hand.

"Where do you need to dose him?" Batman gasped, trying to help his sons subdue Dick.

"At this point, anywhere will do! Ah!" Alfred quickly jabbed the needle into a posterior that had just become apparent. Dick's angry face surfaced from the body pile, eyes dark with emotion before he collapsed entirely.

Tim and Jason got up, dusting themselves off, and eyed their downed sibling.

"How long will he be out?" Tim asked.

Alfred knelt in front of Dick, checking for injuries, quickly joined by Batman.

"He should be asleep for about six hours or so," Alfred said calmly, pocketing the syringe, then began palpating Dick's skull. "I don't think his skull is fractured. Mostly bruises and scrapes, but we should take some x-rays to be sure..."

Batman, doing his own exam, sat back in a low squat. "We got here in time. This time."

"You think he'll try it again?" Jason asked, fighting the urge to nudge the fallen hero with his toe. "He's never seemed like the suicidal type to me."

Batman reached down and lifted Dick in his arms. "Before this, he wasn't. Medical center?" Alfred nodded.

As he edged Dick through the doorway, he called over his shoulder, "Call Leslie."

"On it," Tim said, frowning.

Jason, standing beside him with arms folded, said, "So, Timmy-the-stalker, has Dick ever tried anything like this before?"

Tim, eyes wide, just shook his head. 

* * *

><p>Leslie arrived quickly. She and Alfred went into a huddle over Dick. Batman, at the comms panel, finished his conversation with Superman and went over to his gathered partners. Batgirl, Red Hood and Red Robin, anticipating some kind of action, had taken the time to fully suit up. They straightened when their leader approached.<p>

"No diagnosis or prognosis yet," Batman said. "But I want Thomas and his henchman out of here immediately. I just confirmed with Superman, they've reopened a portal to the other Earth and are shipping the Crime Syndicate members back to their own miserable planet."

"But, I thought that there was some kind of monster attacking their planet," Batgirl interrupted.

"Well, they'll have to face it like heroes if they want to survive," Batman stated baldly. "Especially if they have no escape readily available. If they want a livable world, they'll have to make it happen themselves."

"Where are we taking them?" Jason asked.

"The portal is in Metropolis; I'll give you the coordinates. Tim, you'll be guarding them in the cabin but neither of you let them know where they're going. In their presence, I'll say that Dick is dead and instruct you to take them far away and drop them off." He grimaced. "I don't want there to be any chance of Owlman getting his hands on Dick, ever again. I'm not sure that another dimension is even far enough away for my satisfaction."

"Is that going to be the official story, then? That Dick is dead?" Batgirl asked.

Batman saddened, then sighed. "I have been thinking about this ever since we got Dick back. I think that's for the best. As of this moment, Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing, is dead, killed by the Crime Syndicate and especially Owlman."

"But when he recovers...?" Barbara asked.

"When he recovers, he can't be Dick Grayson or Nightwing for a very long time," Batman said. "Maybe never again. He'd be a walking target, if not from his Gotham or Bludhaven enemies, then from those who want to coopt his skills."

"Slade Wilson," Tim muttered in a low growl. Jason, next to him, frowned heavily.

"Or Ra's al Ghul," Batman added. "He'd love a new, talented assassin and would certainly try to acquire him. He'd think it a suitable revenge against me. We will need to protect Dick until he can protect himself. But, for starters, we get Thomas Wayne off this planet and believing that he's killed Dick!"

Alfred joined them as they went to Owlman's cell. Before opening the door, Batman met the eyes of each of his family members. Thinking about Dick's predicament had changed their expressions to something very close to violence. Batman nodded, yanked the door open and stalked inside with them following closely.

Owlman and Pennyworth sat on the bench, clearly in conversation with each other. Thomas stood when they entered.

"He's dead," Batman said starkly, eyeing Thomas with cold rage. "He went into convulsions again and we couldn't stop them."

Thomas turned questioningly to Pennyworth. "What did you do? What did you give him?" His voice raised to a shout.

"J...just what you told me to, sir. I formulated the antagonist to the original drug. He...he...he shouldn't have died. It should have cured him..." Pennyworth looked pleadingly at the hard faces of the bats, an anger repeated in Thomas' own. "It was the real thing, sir! Honestly!"

"Get out," Batman said curtly. "Jason, Tim, take these...these...persons away from the manor and leave them. And," he turned to his sons. "_**Don't **_kill them or hurt them in any way. I don't want to see either one of them again. Take the plane. I don't care where you drop them off, just take them away from Gotham. Far away."

Hard hands grabbed the two of them and frog marched them to the flight deck where they were strapped in to two seats. 

* * *

><p>As instructed, Tim kept an eye on their prisoners during the flight, while Jason piloted. They landed without trouble at the League landing strip near the Hall of Justice. Superman met them on the tarmac.<p>

"Is this them?" The Man of Steel asked, raking them with a cold glance.

"Yeah," Jason said. "The creepy looking one is the butler. You takin' it from here?"

"We'll take them now," Superman said, folding a large hand on each of the prisoners' arms. He looked up at Jason and Tim. "I'm sorry about Dick, truly sorry. Bruce just told me the whole story."

"Yeah," Tim replied. "It's been a...shock...for all of us."

"Well, keep me apprised," Superman said. "I've known Dick since he was a child and to have this happen..." He shook his head. "I'll give them into your custody, Green Arrow." With a parting nod, Superman returned to the building.

Green Arrow strode over and took the felons' arms, giving the boys a sympathetic look. "Hi, I feel really bad about Dick. I hope he gets over this soon. Will he be adopting a new name, now that the old one's blown?" He rambled on, ignoring the quiet signals from both Tim and Jason.

Finally Jason spoke up. "Green Arrow, you've got it bass ackwards. Dick is dead. He died of a seizure, thanks to these guys and their fake cure," he said.

"But I just talked to Superman and he heard from Batman..."

"No," Tim said firmly. "He's dead." He remembered the acting lessons Alfred had given him and glowered at Owlman. He straightened up, folding his arms angrily over his chest. "No thanks to you!"

They had stopped in front of the portal, buzzing with power and showing a ruined city through its doorway. Owlman, who had been listening to this interchange quietly, interrupted. "Pardon me, uh..Arrow, is it your understanding that Dick Grayson is alive?"

Green Arrow eyed Jason and Tim, both silently trying to signal him and said quietly, "No, I'm afraid he's dead. A great loss to the League. We are at the portal. It's time to send you home now."

Owlman gave each of the heroes a hard stare and motioned for his servant to go through first. "I assure you, that if Richard Grayson is alive, I will find out and make it my business to rescue him."

Muttering under his breath, "Damn!" Tim shoved a smiling Owlman through the portal gate. The last thing Owlman heard before he crossed was Jason, beginning to shout, "What are you, an idiot or something?"

Thomas Wayne was laughing when he exited at Earth-3's Metropolis. 

* * *

><p>PORTAL GATE<p>

Once the criminals were through, Jason said, "What are you, an idiot or something? Now turn the damned thing off before they find a way to come back!"

A slightly ruffled Green Arrow hit the power switch and the gate died down. "Superman said something about a suicide attempt, but I distinctly remember him saying that Dick was alive."

"He never thought to tell you that Batman doesn't want Owlman ta _know _that?" Jason roared.

Red color began to flush the archer's pale cheeks. "You want to tell me what this is all about? Looks like I got left out of the loop. Figures."

Jason and Tim exchanged glances. "It's a long story. Is there a good burger place around here?" Tim said. 

* * *

><p>BATCAVE<p>

"How is he doing?" Batman asked Leslie, who was looking tired at this point. He realized that they both had been awake for well over 48 hours now. He could keep going, but was concerned for the doctor.

"No permanent damage," she said, tucking the blanket around Dick. They had moved him up into the manor, into his own bedroom. Dick might fear his own actions, but Bruce was confident that, in the condition he was in now, Dick couldn't hurt a fly.

"You might want to have somebody sit with him, though," Leslie finished, picking up her bag. "If he's suicidal, he should be under observation."

The bedroom door opened and Alfred caught the end of Leslie's statement. "And I shall be the first shift, Dr. Thompkins," he said. "I do hope that you will be able to get some rest. We have all had a very tiring several days and many of us need rest." He cast a significant look at Batman, which was ignored.

"Thank you, Alfred," Leslie's face lit with a smile. "I think I'll go home and do just that. You should, too, Bruce. You tend to get injured more when you're tired." Before Batman could open his mouth to disagree, Leslie had taken a card from her pocket and pressed it into his hand. "This is a therapist I've seen myself. I think that Dick should talk to her."

"You are seeing a therapist?" Batman asked, dumbfounded.

"I couldn't see the things I see in my practice without some support from time to time," Leslie replied sadly. "She's very good and I think that Dick will like her. Don't let this go," she reminded him. "I don't think you can handle this in-house."

"Can she keep a secret?" Batman asked, still holding the card.

"Does it matter at this point? Dick's identity has been splashed all over the airwaves," Leslie said irritably. "Your secrecy fetish is acting up again.

Batman shook his head. "No, Leslie, you don't understand. I have others to protect as well as Dick. If people found out my identity, I would manage somehow. In fact, I'm surprised it's lasted as long as it has. But Dick's in no shape to keep secrets and the others, Jason, Tim, Barbara and all my other allies' lives are at stake if their true names were known. Dick knows it all."

"Bruce, she can keep your confidences. She's held mine for a good ten years now. You can trust her as you would me. I consider her a friend. Take the risk. For years, Alfred, your amateur doctor has been fixing all your wounds. This is no time for an amateur." She gave him a compassionate look. "Trust me." And went through the door.

Batman pulled back his cowl and stared at the card in his hand until it began to tremble with weariness.

"Perhaps you should sleep, sir," Alfred said. "You will be called when Master Dick wakes."

Bruce his oldest friend's eyes, all barriers down.

"Come now, there is hope for him. I have never known Master Dick to flee from a challenge, not even after his parents died," Alfred said softly. He gently took Bruce by the shoulder and walked him into the master bedroom. "Sleep. Things will be better in the morning." He pushed his surrogate son inside and gently closed the door.

Back inside Dick's room, he pulled a chair to the bedside and took his place. "Master Dick," he said softly. "You should know better than to try something this extreme." He patted his "grandson" on the hand. "And what Miss Barbara will have to say to you doesn't bear thinking about. You must simply trust us, lad. We will get you through this, I promise."


	36. Reconnecting

Author's Note: Okay, I lied. The story isn't done yet because the characters won't let me and we aren't really at the end. Dick is being especially persuasive (it's those blue eyes) and he wants to be really, really back to normal before I put them all back into their boxes at the end of the day. So, keep on readin'... 

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 36-Reconnecting <p>

At Alfred's insistence, Bruce went to bed and allowed the others to watch over Dick. Still, he worried. He'd never been in this kind of situation before. Sure, Jason had died wearing a Robin uniform, but a few payoffs to some corrupt government officials had brought him home in a closed coffin. It had been handled. Dick wasn't dead. No, he mused, he was broken and it was all Bruce's fault. How could he not do his very best for his oldest son? Dick would do the same for him and Wayne Enterprises be damned.

With that resolved, he turned over and dropped into sleep. 

* * *

><p>3 A. M. DICK'S BEDROOM<p>

"I think it's my turn, Alfred," Barbara tiptoed quietly into Dick's room.

A very tired butler looked up and smiled. "Thank you, my dear. He's been very quiet so far, but he might awaken while you are with him."

"I understand," she said, looking at Dick and biting her lip. "Somehow, I never expected him to have this kind of injury. Burns, gunshot wounds, broken bones? That's par for the course. But this?" She sat in the chair newly vacated by Alfred.

"Every man has his breaking point, Miss Barbara," Alfred said gently. "But Master Dick has always been resilient; that is what I am counting on now." He patted her shoulder. "There is hot coffee in the thermos. I shall see you in the morning."

"Good night, Alfred," she said and settled in for her shift.

A few hours later she looked up from her book to see a pair of worn blue eyes watching her quietly. She closed the paperback and settled into her chair.

"Good morning, Dick," she said. "How do you feel?"

"You look just like her," Dick said. "The Barbara I knew as a kid, I mean."

"I _am _the Barbara you knew as a kid," she said with some asperity. "I thought you had your memories back."

Dick smiled crookedly. "Oh, those. And more. I just can't tell the difference now. Take this room, for instance," he waved a hand. "The bedspread is either blue or green depending on which Earth I'm inhabiting. So, I'm still here with Batman and Bruce Wayne?"

"Just like you always have been," she replied. "Owlman is gone and he won't be back. You're safe from him now."

"Really? Where is he? Did he take Alfred...um...Pennyworth with him?" Dick asked, pushing himself to sit up, then finding the restraints. "Well...damn..." He glared down at the bands on his wrists, then tried to move his legs without effect.

Barbara's eyebrows raised. "They're for your own safety. You were pounding your head against the walls of your cell when Batman took you down." Her lip quirked. "Actually, it took Tim, Jason, Bruce and Alfred to subdue you. You haven't lost your gift, Former Boy Wonder."

"Well, that explains the headache, then, and why I feel like I've been drugged." Dick smiled back, relaxing against the pillow. "I haven't lost my gift, just my mind, Babs. So, what now?"

"Owlman's back on his own Earth and that weird butler too. You're home. Now you'll have some time to recuperate and get your thinking straight. And Richard Grayson, don't you _dare _try suicide again!" She got up and stood over him.

"I was just trying to quiet all the voices, most of them telling me to kill Bruce and all his allies. _You_," he said quietly. "I had to make them go away."

"I was in the control room and I got to watch you trying to kill yourself," she said, looming over him with arms folded. "Do you know how I felt? How helpless I was?" She unfolded the arms and moved even closer, glaring. "And do you know what it would do to Bruce if you had succeeded? Not to mention Alfred and Tim. Even Jason would be sorry. I think...Anyway, losing you would really hit the family hard. I don't know how we'd recover from it. If Bruce was bad after Jason got killed and Damian died, he'd be destroyed if you committed suicide! He'd never forgive himself in a million years!" She realized that she was shouting at him and snuffled back the tears that were clogging her nose and voice.

"Would you miss me?" Dick asked, eyes looking very blue.

"Of course I would," she said, then took a deep breath. "Do you remember proposing to me?"

Dick frowned. "Yeah... I do. It was on an airstrip, right? Then I got hurt and took a long time recovering...and we kinda back-burnered it, right?"

"Pretty much," she replied, pulling the ring out from a chain around her neck. "I haven't forgotten. I'm glad you remember it now."

"But, Babs, how do I know I'm not the Richard Grayson that Thomas raised?" Dick asked miserably. "How do I know that those memories are the right ones? For all I know, Thomas was right and it was _Bruce_ who planted them in my memory."

"You were trained by Bruce to be a detective, relying on objective evidence. Well, Detective, I've got some video to show you," she said, walking over to the t.v. set. "They were lying to you all along. Watch." She clicked a remote and they both watched: first, Pennyworth admitting to Alfred that he had killed Richard Grayson, then all the interviews between Bruce and Thomas, video of Owlman and Pennyworth together. Videos of Bruce frantically trying to help Dick, up to their taking him down after the suicide attempt. After the last video was over, she clicked it off. "That should bring you up to date, Dick. This is what has been happening while you were sick."

Dick was white and shaken. "Bruce was pleading with Owlman for...for me?"

She nodded. "There isn't much he wouldn't do for you. D'you think he'd go this far for a stranger?"

Dick flashed her a crooked smile. "Yeah, he probably would, but it's nice to see him doing it for me. So, the talon memories are false?"

"Yes, they're false. Don't listen to them," she replied. "So, you're still hearing your 'voices'?"

"Not so much since you showed me the truth," Dick admitted. "My memories of Wayne Manor and this Gotham are stronger, for now, at least. The other ones are still there but feel kinda washed out. Not that they couldn't be activated again." He looked around the room and tugged at the restraints. "You...uh...don't know where Owlman is now, do you?" he asked fearfully.

"So that you can join him?" Barbara asked casually, but held her breath.

"No! So I can stay the hell away from him! That guy is scary enough but his butler!" Dick shook his head. "I don't think I want either of them inside my head anymore. Wish I knew how to evict them."

"Time is probably a factor," Barbara said. "And being around familiar things."

Dick nodded silently and stared at the darkened flat screen, remembering Barbara's visit to his cell. "So, Babs, you're still wearing my ring. Does that mean we're still a 'go' for getting married?" His impudent grin made her giggle.

"I never called it off, Former Boy Wonder," she said. "I've been waiting for you all this time." She leaned over the bed and kissed him thoroughly, leaving him with a dazed smile. "Feel better now?"

"Somehow, I don't think Talon had anything like this on his Earth," he said, leaning in for another kiss. It was long, deep and soul-satisfying. So much so, that Dick hauled himself back. "You shouldn't marry me, Babs, not the way I am now."

"Why not?" she asked gently.

"I...I don't really know who I am," Dick swallowed hard, the longing shining from his eyes. "And I don't know who I'll be in a year. I can't bind you to that. I might not even be alive in a year, if Nightwing's enemies catch up to me."

"I'll wait a while longer, Former Boy Wonder," Barbara said and put her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to meet her gaze. "But things will get better. I promise. You'll stay here at Wayne Manor and not do something stupid, like going it alone?"

"Yeah, until Bruce and I disagree about something..." Dick muttered. "Babs, d'you think I can be let out of the cuffs now? I need to use the bathroom and I promise I won't try to hurt myself."

She narrowed her eyes. "You swear?"

"I'll even pinky-swear, if that's what you want," Dick said, lifting the named digit.

"Okay." She linked her right pinky around his left, then unlocked the restraints. "Idiot." 

* * *

><p>WAYNE MANOR-KITCHEN <p>

"Penny for your thoughts, sir?" Hot coffee miraculously poured into Bruce's cup, breaking his train of thought.

"Good morning, Alfred," he said, sipping the coffee carefully. "I hope you got some sleep last night?" He reflected that one of Alfred's most mysterious attributes was his complete failure ever to look exhausted, no matter how long he had been awake. Batman had envied that trait for years.

"Indeed I did, sir. I am only just out of bed," Alfred said with a smile. "We have good news."

"Do we?" Bruce asked doubtfully.

"Yes, Miss Barbara had the early morning watch with Master Dick and believes she's made a breakthrough of sorts. She showed him all of the videos we have of Owlman and Pennyworth. And of everyone, sir, while Master Dick was missing. Including you."

An eyebrow crept up. "All of them?" Bruce asked warily.

"Master Dick is a very intelligent young man and will catch any lies or evasions on our part. It is important that he be fully informed," Alfred said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table beside Bruce.

Both Bruce's eyebrows shot up. "Alfred, you don't usually...I mean, generally you refuse to..."

Alfred held up a hand. "This is family business, sir, and since I regard myself as family, I feel that I am owed a seat at the table. Have you decided to take Dr. Thompkin's advice regarding Master Dick?"

Bruce studied his coffee. "I don't want an outsider having access to our secrets."

Alfred sighed and stood up. "I always find that coffee goes much better with fresh scones." He left and quickly returned with a plateful of blueberry scones , a pot of butter and plates with knives. He set a place for them both and sat back down.

"While you eat, I shall talk." The old man stared at Bruce until he had served himself a scone and begun buttering it. "You owe it to Master Dick to give him the best care possible. He has made an appreciable difference in your life over the years and to hear you prate of 'secrets' makes my blood boil."

"They aren't just my secrets," Bruce stuffed part of a scone into his mouth, suddenly feeling twelve years old. "They are the secrets of every member of the League. They trusted me with them and I can't let them down," he said thickly around the scone. He grabbed his cup and took a swallow. "I'd rather wait and see how Dick is doing before calling in a stranger for him. Besides, you just said you had good news."

"Ah. Yes, Master Dick has begun remembering his life here with us and has...erm...resumed his romantic relationship with Miss Gordon. Hopefully this will help to drown those voices of his. Nevertheless, I maintain that the lad needs and deserves professional help." Alfred leaned back in his chair and studied the man he'd raised. "Or are you concerned with something beyond the secrets you and Master Dick know?" He leaned forward again, watching Bruce's eyes. "Are you concerned that the psychologist might want _you_ to share in some of her sessions?" Seeing his master flinch, Alfred let out a loud snort. "Sir, your unfortunate sessions with a child psychologist when you were newly bereaved don't enter into this."

Suddenly cornered, Bruce hunkered over his coffee. "That's not relevant."

"Her prime focus will be Master Dick, I assure you," Alfred said gently. He took a scone and nibbled it. "You do remember that I also cooperated with the psychologist sessions when you were a lad. And I called a halt to them when I determined that they were doing more harm than good."

Bruce said nothing, staring into his cup.

"If you participate, you will have that same opportunity. For Master Dick's sake," Alfred went on.

"Damn," Bruce breathed. The two sat in silence for several minutes. Alfred finished his scone, waiting him out.

"All right, Alfred, I'll do it. But the instant I think she's taking notes for a book or...or doing anything that might hurt Dick, I'm calling a halt to the sessions," he said from under furrowed eyebrows.

"I would expect nothing less from you, sir," Alfred hid a smirk and gathered up the empty plates and cups. 

* * *

><p>DICK'S BEDROOM<p>

Rubbing his wrists, Dick got off the bed and stretched. He ambled towards the bathroom.

"Keep the door open, Former Boy Wonder!" she called.

"Kinky!" he replied with a grin, but kept the door open while he did his business. "You okay if I take a shower?"

"By all means, but keep the bathroom door open," she replied.

"You always did like to watch," he called back and started the water flowing. Stripping off the t-shirt and shorts they'd dressed him in, he stepped into the spray. It felt good to get clean, he just wished that he could scrub his soul too. He felt dirty inside, as though he'd been travelling through Gotham's sewers. The taint of Owlman hung over him.

He pressed his forehead against the tile, letting the water pound against his back. He had bruises and pains whose source he couldn't identify, so much had happened. But he was home, now. Or was he? The voices still spoke to him; actually one voice: that green-haired butler. He could almost believe that the Joker had transmitted part of his own soul with the poison he'd dosed Pennyworth with. Pennyworth had been the one doing most of the brainwashing, he realized now. What else had he planted inside his mind? His eyes opened wide. How would he ever know? Every violent urge, every impulse, with his skills, he could kill somebody before he realized it.

But, he'd never be Nightwing again. That part of his life had been ripped away from him, that was certain. He wouldn't be a danger to a team like the Titans or to Bruce or anyone he loved. But he still might be other things, whether he wanted to or not. The Court of Owls still wanted him as a talon, he knew that. Owlman would claw his way out of Hell to get him back, he knew that too. Bruce had trained the perfect sidekick, he'd known that for years. A few super-villains had even offered Batman money to sell them him small partner, offers which had been quickly refused with punches and kicks and not just from Batman.

"What do I do?" he whispered. "I've been Batman's partner since I was nine. Who am I now?" A 'normal' life? Doing what? He didn't see himself as a... a roofer or a sandwich maker or, he smiled, a car salesman. He'd left college, maybe he could go back and get that business degree. If he went back to Haley's, they would find him. "That's the first place they'd look."

"You okay in there, Man Wonder?" Babs called from the room. "Who are you talking to?"

Oh yeah, Babs. "Just myself, Barbara," he called back. "I'm fine." He turned off the water. Might as well face his new reality, although he still didn't know what on earth he was going to do now. 

* * *

><p>WAYNE MANOR-Bruce's study<p>

Bruce held the now-crumpled business card in one hand, the receiver of his desk phone in the other. He didn't have to do this. Alfred wasn't always right. Dick was a grown man and he'd dealt with injuries before.

Right. And Superman was a Martian.

He sighed and dialed the number. The line rang once. Twice. Maybe he'd just be leaving a message in her voice ma-

"Hello?"


	37. Trust

CHAPTER 37

Bruce felt an unaccustomed feeling: tongue-tied. Bruce Wayne, the socialite was facile and glib. Bruce Wayne the father...? Fortunately, the psychiatrist had no difficulty there.

"Hello. You must be Bruce Wayne. Leslie told me to expect your call," she replied, then her voice softened. "I understand that your son is having some difficulties?"

_Difficulties. She called them difficulties. And she knows about our real relationship. Just how much did Leslie tell her?_

He cleared his throat and took a sip of water from the glass of Evian at his elbow. "Just how much has Leslie told you about the situation?"

"She told me that this would be a very difficult situation, and when she told me what family I would be contacting I thought I understood. You want to avoid publicity, I imagine? I know that you have taken in several homeless boys over the years, but I'd read that you were just their guardian. The only one that you adopted..." He heard paper rustle. "Was Jason Todd, but I understand that he died a few years ago. Who is it you want me to see? Has there been a more recent adoption?"

He'd paid good money to hide Dick's adoption and was glad that she seemed unaware of it. But he knew that for any therapy to be effective, Dick would need to be honest with her, especially because of the nature of the situation. Oh, he didn't want to do this. Maybe they could still just give Dick some time to recover on his own...? He remembered Dick, banging his head desperately against the wall of his cell, blood running down his face, trying to silence the voices. He rubbed his eyes with one hand. He hoped that Leslie was right about this woman. The background checks were clean, but he had survived this long by not trusting anyone but the Family.

"Dr. Gold, I think we should meet in person to discuss this..." he faltered.

"Sure. My office is on Fifth Street," she began but he interrupted.

"No, you need to come out to the Manor. It isn't safe for Dick to be out in Gotham right now. His face is too well-known and there have been several threats against his life." Threats? It made him want to laugh and then cringe. The kid had piled up more death threats since he was outed than even Batman had ever gotten! Enemies of Robin, of Nightwing, of Officer Grayson, B.P.D and of Bruce Wayne's son had _all_ popped out of the woodwork on this one! He'd given strict instructions to Alfred to keep this intel strictly between the two of them.

She didn't reply right away and he could almost hear her mind working. "Uh...your...um...'son'...wouldn't happen to be Richard Grayson, also known as Nightwing?"

She had clearly been watching the media and added two and two. He sighed; in for a penny, in for a pound. He cleared his throat again, glad that the line was secure. "We will discuss that in my study here, at Wayne Manor. When can you come over?"

"Actually, I'm free tomorrow afternoon," she said after another long pause. "How about 2:00?"

"That works very well," he replied.

"Mister Wayne," she said hesitantly. "Just what am I getting into here?"

"Another world, Dr. Gold, another world. We'll see you at 2:00."

After the call ended, he added the appointment to his calendar and sat in thought. He had been putting this off since they'd brought Dick in, but there was no avoiding it. 

* * *

><p>DICK'S BEDROOM <p>

"Hi Bruce," Tim said when Bruce opened the door and poked his head in.

"How is he?" Bruce asked softly. "If Dick is asleep, I can come back."

"No, actually I'm sulking," A sullen voice came from the bed. "At least Barbara let me out of the restraints for a while. Timbo here seems to think I'm gonna jump out the window!"

"I'm not going to be the one that loses you this time," Tim said calmly, turning his tablet off. "Are you going to be sitting with him?"

"Yes, thank you, Tim. It's my turn," Bruce said easily and took Tim's place in the chair. After the door closed, he leaned forward. "So, how are you feeling?"

Dick deliberately closed his eyes and sank back against the pillows. "Everyone keeps asking me that and I always give the same answer: ' !"

"Okay, let's simplify this then," Bruce replied, examining Dick's body-language. "Are you still hearing voices? Do you feel out of control?"

"Not right now," Dick said, eyes opening again, but slowly and avoiding Bruce's gaze. "Of course, Tim and I've been watching Bugs Bunny all day and I'm dying for some carrots, but I don't feel like killing anybody just now."

"Not even yourself?" Bruce asked and watched Dick wince.

"I didn't want to kill myself, Bruce, I just wanted to shut the voices up. Especially _his_!" Dick's darting eyes finally caught Bruce's cool ones.

Bruce's eyebrows drew together. "You mean Thomas Wayne's?"

"No. Pennyworth's. If Thomas is twisted, it's because Pennyworth twisted him. That green-haired demon was the one who did most of the brainwashing. He dosed me with the drugs and it was his voice on the recordings. Mostly." Dick turned his face away. "I was stuck in a bed, held down by restraints, .these!" With each word he pulled both arms against the restraints, muscles straining in his arms, shoulders and neck. He gave up with a sigh and lay back against the bed again.

"I'm sorry, Dick, but we're worried about you," Bruce said, voice rumbling low. "This is a new situation for me."

"Yeah, I get that. We always had some kind of antidote to anything the Scarecrow or the Mad Hatter cooked up. Why can't we do something like that?" he asked hopefully.

His boy was sweating and his hair, always unruly, was a mess. Coupled with Dick's look of trust and appeal, he reminded Bruce of the newly orphaned child he'd tucked back into bed after nightmares. He'd been unable to prevent those, either.

"This isn't quite so simple, Dick," Bruce said. "You've had a lot of losses all at once, finished by Owlman's butler and the treatments they gave you. You don't feel quite stable yet, do you?" Tell me you feel fine and you can go out and beat the world! Tell me you're fine...Lie to me.

Dick's honest blue eyes wouldn't meet his. "No. I don't know what I'm capable of and who I'll be after all this. But I don't want to kill myself. Not right now, anyway."

"Promise you'll tell me first, if you need to shut down the voices again? Or if you feel like hurting yourself in any way?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, I'll tell you first, Bruce. " Dick held up a wrist. "Trust me?"

Trust him? He'd trust him with his own life, with the safety of the Earth, with the entire Justice League's safety! Trust him not to hurt himself and destroy Bruce's world? That came harder. He needed to know more.

"Do you trust yourself? If you start thinking Talon thoughts, you come to me or Alfred too." Bruce laid a hand on Dick's wrist; the boy's pulse was racing.

Dick nodded. "I'll come to you. Just cut me loose, will ya?" Dick's eyes were just as blue as when he turned away from his murdered parents to first catch Bruce's gaze. Just as he had that day, Bruce wanted nothing more than to scoop him up, feed him and keep him safe.

"All right," He unlocked Dick's restraints, the wrists first and then the legs. As a precaution, he backed away from the bed in case it had been Talon he'd just spoken with.

Dick stretched and rolled himself upright, then climbed to his feet. A sudden dizzy spell hit him and he found a pair of strong arms supporting him. He shook them off and stood alone. " 'm okay," he said softly. "Gotta learn t' stand on my own two feet."

"Dick we'll always be here to support you," Bruce said, then added, "I will always be here to support you. Whenever you need me."

"Thanks, Bruce," Dick said. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Let's go downstairs. Alfred said he was going to brew some coffee and I think there are some fresh cookies. You look like you could stand to gain some weight," Bruce said, opening the door. He followed Dick out into the hall. "By the way, you are restricted to the manor and its grounds, including the cave. It isn't safe for you to be seen outside the manor walls."

The smirk that had begun to cross Dick's face faded. "Who?"

They took the stairs slowly, Bruce watching carefully to see if the vertigo returned, but they made it into the kitchen safely before he answered Dick's question. There were too many potential risks to list them all, especially not knowing Dick's present state of mind. He cleared his throat.

"Penguin, for one. He's gotten nervous since you 'killed' Two Face. He sees you as a threat to his life as well as his livelihood." Bruce said. "His humiliation at the hands of Owlman and Talon has increased his motivation. He's hired some out of town talent, I hear: Slade Wilson." And an entire host of others have gotten in line to take out what's left of you, Dick. Listen for once and stay here!

Dick jerked. "Deathstroke?"

Bruce pulled out a chair in the kitchen that still smelled warmly of cookies and gestured to Dick to sit down. Dick plunked himself into the chair, attention still on his mentor. Bruce grabbed the coffee pot and poured two big cups, sliding one in front of his son. He followed up with a plate of cookies. "Yes. I haven't isolated the source of the second contract but I don't discount it. For now, it's safer if you stay here."

"But Bruce, they'll come here first! Everyone knows about your interest in me. Heck, you raised me! I've gotta get out of here; you're all in danger!"

He started to rise but stopped when Bruce barked loudly, "Sit down! I've taken that into account. We have a full house and you will be defended, Dick. You are not leaving us, under any circumstances. Is that understood?" The two glared at each other until Dick broke away first. Quietly sighing with relief, Bruce went on. "Now eat your cookies."

A little smile cracked his son's face. "Yes sir!"

The room was quiet for a while except for the sound of munching. Trying to be casual, Bruce brought up the real reason for the conversation. "You had asked what the plan is now? First, you need some therapy."

Dick nodded. "Yeah, I know, PT to get back up to par. I don't think I've lost too much in my skills. Maybe more time with escrima.."

"That's not what I meant," Bruce said, cupping his coffee in both hands. "A doctor, recommended by Leslie, a...um...psychiatrist will be here tomorrow to take a look at you and..."

"A shrink? You called a shrink on me?" Dick shouted. "I'm not crazy and you know it! I just need some time and I'll be back to normal again...!"

"If you don't bash your brains out first because the voices get too loud," Bruce said grimly. "Or if you don't revert to the Talon personality and kill somebody." _Just like you did before_ rang through the silent room.

"But, Babs said I didn't...I didn't kill Dent...I just thought I did," Dick rubbed at his suddenly watering eyes. Maybe she was wrong? Maybe she'd just said all that to make him feel better?

Bruce laid a gentle hand on his boy's wrist. . "No, Dick, you didn't kill anybody. Owlman just made you believe that you'd crossed the line to make your 'second' kill that much easier. I want to prevent either death, yours or someone else's. Leslie vouches for Dr. Gold. She's a psychiatrist, so she can deal with the psychotropic drugs already in your system as well as give you emotional and mental support. I've...ah...decided to give her full access to any information she needs. You are free to discuss anything you need to with her."

Bruce hadn't intended to do that. In fact, he'd planned to give Dick a list of strictures, secrets he wasn't allowed to address. But half an hour in the boy's company had changed his mind. Dick's pulse was racing even faster and he looked terrified, but was trying to hide it. His old life was gone beyond recall, he could never be Nightwing safely again and he knew it. His son had already seen more death than anyone so young ever should. Whatever Dr. Gold needed, she would have, if it helped Dick recover.

"You trust her that much?" Dick replied softly. "What if she gives everything away? What about your safety? The League? Everyone? Bruce, you shouldn't trust me with this responsibility... I don't want to be the one who gets you all killed. I already killed my friends in Chicago. All of them."

"You didn't kill them, son," Bruce grabbed the boy's other wrist, moving his hands up to hold his forearms tightly. "You couldn't resist the compulsion and you avoided giving them anything wherever possible. I know. I saw the recording. If it's all right with you, I'll monitor your visits with her. If I have any concerns, I'll cut it off. You will be safe and so will everyone you love." He paused, remembering a terrified nine year old who had lost everything in a single night. Dick's expression now mirrored his expression then. "I promise you, Dick. You will get better and it will be okay."

Dick looked up and met his eyes again. He gripped his mentor's forearms as well, hand over wrist. "I trust you, Bruce. I know you'll always catch me if I fall. Let's do this." 

* * *

><p>Of course, when Bruce called a meeting in the cave to discuss the plan, there was dissent. He explained the situation and his intent to allow Dick free rein to discuss anything he needed to, including bat-family secrets.<p>

"So where is he? Why isn't he here?" Jason said, looking around as if Dick were hiding from them.

"He's in his room, sleeping. Alfred's with him," Bruce said. "We're hoping that we can normalize his sleep/wake periods."

"So, you're gonna let Dickiebird tell the nice shrink all our identities?" Jason demanded hotly. "It's fine for him. He doesn't have any secrets left to protect-except ours! And he isn't even here to persuade us! I don't want to be hung out to dry on global television just like..."

"Just like what happened to Dick?" Tim said quietly, arms folded over chest. "How many times has he saved your bacon, Todd? Five, maybe six times? The only reason you aren't behind bars right now is because Dick spoke for you when Bruce was ready to throw the key away. I say he can say anything about me he wants to, up to and including my full name and current address!"

Bruce half smiled at Tim. The kid had always been loyal, especially to Dick. "I hoped you'd feel that way, Tim. How about you, Barbara?"

She bit her lip. Her privacy was something she cherished, but her secrets had never kept her out of the line of fire. "Anything he wants to tell about me, he can. The Joker never knew I was Batgirl, but he shot me anyway. There are a lot of people who already know who I am, so this doesn't make any difference. And...and anything that I can do to help him, I'm willing to do."

"Well," said Jason. "That's just peachy for everybody! I might've known that Bruce would do anything for his perfect son, even destroy the rest of his family. Well, you can't sacrifice me for the golden boy, Bruce! Not this time. My secrets are my own and nobody else is invited to share 'em. Be sure that Dickiebird knows it, too!" With that, he stalked out of the cave.

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "All right, I'm grateful for all the help you two have volunteered and I'll be sure that Dick knows about Jason's limitations."

"Bruce? D'you think it will work?" Tim asked. "Dick seems so...so broken, somehow."

"I hope so, Tim," Bruce said. "I surely hope so."


	38. Dr Gold

Author's Note: Please don't forget to review! I know I take a long time between chapters these days, but I like to know that there are still readers out there following the story. Please?

CHAPTER 38

Callie Gold stood in front of the huge house, trying to take it all in. She knew that Bruce Wayne was wealthy, all Gotham knew that. She hadn't imagined how imposing his home could be. The house was ancient, more like an old English country mansion than a house. Established, that was it. Like the Waynes in Gotham, pillars of society.

She knew, as did all Gotham, that Wayne had ties to Batman. He had been financing the Caped Crusader for years and now everyone also knew that Wayne's...adopted son?...had been Robin and later a costumed hero in his own right. How on earth was she supposed to treat a traumatized hero?

"Just like any other human," Leslie had said drily. "He isn't a meta, has no super-powers. He has the same problems the rest of us have."

"Yeah, yeah, he puts his tights on one leg at a time," Callie had replied. "I don't know of any other cape that has ever needed therapy."

"Of course you don't," Leslie had said, suddenly serious. "They keep things like this very secret. They don't let people into their lives easily or without vetting. Otherwise, they endanger themselves, their families and friends. I've vouched for you and I know you'll live up to my trust."

"Of course, I will!" Callie had sputtered. "You know I'm a professional!"

"Good," Leslie replied. "Because Dick is a very old friend of mine and he needs help right now."

"Madam?" a soft British voice interrupted her reverie. "May I help you?"

"Oh?" Callie laughed uncomfortably. "Oh, you must be Alfred, the butler. Leslie sends her regards." She nervously pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

He smiled, expression warming with welcome. "Dr. Gold, you are very welcome here. Do come in.

She followed the butler to what seemed to be a living room and watched with bemusement as she was served an old fashioned British tea, with silver service, fragile china tea cups and pastries. As her hand closed over her cup she eyed the pattern and realized that it had been hand painted. Suddenly afraid of breaking it, she set it down on the small table next to her.

"Do try the tea," Alfred said with a twinkle in his eye. "And have no fear of breaking the cups. I assure you, there are many more where that came from."

Uncertainly, she lifted the cup to her lips and savored the taste of fine tea with lemon and sugar. "This is wonderful, Alfred," she exclaimed.

"I have it shipped in from our offices in Taiwan." He smiled at her again. "Mr. Wayne will join you shortly."

Outside, in the hallway, Bruce stopped Alfred. "Well?"

"She seems nice enough, sir. I wouldn't worry quite as much as you seem to be. If Dr. Thompkins recommends her, she is the best."

Bruce simply nodded and moved towards the family room. He stopped, took a breath and straightened his clothing before pasted a smile on his face and slid open the mahogany pocket doors.

"Dr. Gold, welcome," he said, reaching out his right hand to shake hers.

She quickly set the teacup down and stood uncertainly, but her grip was firm. "Mr. Wayne, it's good to meet you."

"Please, take a seat," Wayne said and folded himself into the chair opposite her, quickly pouring himself a cup of tea. "Try one of Alfred's cookies. The boys and their friends have always loved them."

"The boys?" Callie said. "I know that Jason Todd...passed away...a few years ago and you adopted Dick Grayson. Do you have other children?"

"Yes, I also adopted Timothy Drake after his parents died, and I...had a son, Damian, who has passed away as well. He was mostly raised by his mother and came into my custody when he was ten years old."

"Two deaths, I am sorry," she said sympathetically. "Illness?"

Wayne frowned. "No. Accident. Gotham can be a very violent city. Damian was at Wayne Enterprises headquarters when it was invaded by a monster called Leviathan and was hit by falling shrapnel when Leviathan began to destroy the place. He was killed instantly. In fact, Dick was injured in the incident as well."

"Is that one of the reasons you are supporting Batman? Financially, I mean?" Callie asked.

"One of them. The other is that my own parents were killed by a mugger, in my presence, when I was a child. I was a witness...I've never quite recovered from it," he admitted. Dr. Gold was easy to talk to. He needed to be careful or he'd give her more detail than he wanted.

"I can see that. I understand that although you raised Dick Grayson, you didn't adopt him until he reached adulthood. " She said in a flat voice. She had noticed this troubling detail in Leslie's file

Wayne winced. "Yes, I did. Dick was nine when he came to the manor, after his own parents were killed. They were trapeze artists and a small- time extortionist tampered with the rigging. I couldn't let Dick go through the grief all alone, like I did. And the time passed so very quickly. I'd always intended to adopt him, had the papers drawn up, but suddenly he was a young man, an adult and...and I was afraid that I had waited too long. That I was too late." Wayne looked away, not meeting her eyes. "I finally got the courage to ask him if he would be my son and, to my surprise, he was overjoyed.." The millionaire sighed. "The delay was entirely my fault. But Dick knows, or I hope he knows, just how important he is to me." A haunted look flashed across Wayne's face. "That's why it's so important that you're here."

Interesting. She made a mental note to ask Dick about his relationship with Wayne and, specifically, the adoption. Now came the difficult question. She straightened up, watching the billionaire's face. "Dick Grayson was Nightwing. Am I correct?"

"Yes," Bruce replied.

"And before that, I understand that Nightwing was also Batman's partner, Robin. So, your son was Robin, at a young age?"

"Yes. Does that matter?" Wayne said blandly.

Was he serious? "Being Robin isn't the same as joining the Cub Scouts," she said, trying not to sound as appalled as she felt. "Weren't you concerned for Dick's safety? How well did you know Batman, that you allowed your minor child to live this...this...this life?" Just what kind of a childhood had Dick Grayson had?

Bruce steepled his fingertips and leaned back in his chair. "I knew that there was danger, but it was his choice. At the time, the real question wasn't whether I would allow him to be Robin but rather how I could keep him from it. You see, his parents had been murdered before his eyes and Dick wanted justice. He wanted it very badly. In fact, he tried to run away at least once to track down his parents' murderer. The only way to protect him was to let Batman train him and keep him under Batman's supervision."

"I...see," Callie said, not sure she really saw at all. What a very strange upbringing her new patient had had. Bruce Wayne wasn't lying precisely, but somehow there was a lot he wasn't saying. "Still, was his vigilante lifestyle important to him?"

"Very. That's why you are here," Wayne said. Ah, honesty at last. "With his identity now public, Dick has lost everything he has worked for over the last ten or more years. Add to it the fact that he was brainwashed and drugged, he's finding it hard to adjust. Dick is blaming himself, characteristically, for the deaths that have resulted. The Syndicate hunted down many of his friends after his identity became known." Hmmm...sympathy? Maybe there was more to this playboy than she had thought.

"How is...er...Batman taking things?" she asked.

Wayne drew in a deep breath. "He is very supportive. He wants Dick to have whatever he needs to heal." He curled his hands into fists. "I would guess that he feels...guilty...at not protecting Nightwing, not rescuing him, not being there for him when he was needed."

"I understand that one of his kidnappers was a virtual double for you? A version of your older brother from some parallel dimension?" For a moment she couldn't believe she was actually saying this and being taken seriously. Honestly, the world these vigilantes lived in...not even close to normal. "Nobody is blaming Dick for anything that happened?" she asked, watching Wayne's face closely. There was something...ah...a flicker in his eyes.

"Oh no! No. Not at all," Wayne said, eyes gone steely, his voice a low growl. "And the ones responsible have been dealt with by persons at the highest level of the League."

She noticed the muscles bulging under the tailored shirt, the fists yearning to punch something. Wayne's jaw had gone tight with controlled rage. She had known that Wayne was athletic, but the silk shirt only enhanced his rippling abs and pectoral muscles, a picture that felt familiar. She frowned, recalling a photograph she had seen: a candid shot of Batman and a young Robin in action, Dick Grayson, she guessed. She had researched Batman, looked at photos of him with Robin. She had seen different boys over the years, but mostly Batman had the same profile, the same one she was looking at now. Four boys, four sons. A protective father who was so infernally busy living a double life, he forgot to adopt his child. "And the secrecy has been hard on you both, I imagine, Batman," she replied.

He started and began to say something, then settled back into his seat. "Is it so obvious?"

"No," she replied. "But I've read Leslie's files; all of them. I've also looked at every news report, article and picture I could find of you, Dick, Batman, Robin and Nightwing. It wasn't until you explained that you have..had..several sons that it started to gel. I'm also good with body language. Will my guessing all this be a problem?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No. Actually, you've solved a few problems for me. Is there anything more I can tell you? Anything I can do to help?"

"Just one clarification," she said. "I want you to respect Dick's privacy. While he is in session with me, he can say anything he wants, divulge any secrets he holds and I will keep it confidential. The only exception is that if I believe he's likely to hurt anyone, I have a legal duty to report him to the authorities to prevent it. I also want it understood that you will not film, record, bug or otherwise surveil Dick's sessions with me. I know that you rely on various cameras and other spy equipment to stay informed, to an extent beyond what any law enforcement agency is ever allowed. If you cannot follow those rules, then I can't take Dick on as a patient."

Wayne opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Damn! she was sharp. He eyed her, not without some resentment. "Even if I'm the one paying Dick's bills?"

"Even if you're paying me with gold doubloons, Dick's welfare comes first, before any other concern. Leslie gave me an understanding of your security setup, oh, not too much," she waved a hand. "But enough to realize that you may have difficulty surrendering control."

Wayne seemed to ponder something, then spoke. "I've made Dick a promise that I'll monitor the sessions and halt them if I think that he's being harmed. Dick...feels that his judgment has been compromised by the brainwashing. I promised that I'd make sure that no stranger would hurt him again. You'll have to live with my direct involvement, for Dick's sake. I won't interfere unless I think that my son is being threatened somehow. Can you work with that limitation?"

They studied each other. She was suddenly glad that Batman was on the good guys' side. He'd be a menace if his gifts were ever turned against society. "If Dick gives me his permission for you to monitor our sessions, then I'll accept it. But if you feel the need to stop his therapy, I want you to come to me first so that we can discuss it."

Wayne was silent for a long moment, so she began gathering her purse and preparing to depart. She doubted that this wealthy man would have any trouble finding another, more amenable, therapist for his son. "And don't worry about my divulging anything we've discussed. I'll also hold that in confidence." She began to get up from her chair.

"Where are you going?" Wayne demanded.

"I'm leaving," she answered, perplexed. "I just gave you a set of requirements that you can't possibly accept."

Wayne ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, rumpling it. "I can accept them and I do. I want a therapist for Dick who is as committed to his welfare as I am. Welcome to the team, Dr. Gold." He reached a hand out.

"Callie," she said, shaking his hand. "My friends call me Callie."

Smiling broadly at her, Wayne said, "I'll take you to meet your patient, Callie."

* * *

><p>Dick sat in the small parlor that had been designated his treatment room. The Manor was huge and had many rooms not commonly used. This one had been Martha Wayne's personal study, with light colors and delicate painted silk wallpaper. The French doors to the rose garden were open and the scent of the roses wafted through into the still room. Dick noted with irony that Bruce had chosen a ground floor room for Dick to see the psychiatrist in. <em>He's probably afraid I'll jump. <em>He gently ran a hand over the wallpaper. _Heh. Even the walls in here look soft. Can't bash my brains out here. _Nervous, he got up and began to pace. He knew that he needed help, all the more because of what he hadn't shared with Bruce, Alfred or anybody. The voices were still there, and loud. He was haunted by the voice of that creepy green-haired butler, those he could almost ignore, but then Thomas' voice would interrupt. He was eminently reasonable and, Dick knew, held an affection for him, even through all the lies.

"I've _got_ to shut that down!" he muttered to himself, pacing faster. "I can't let this control me. I can't let Owlman control me anymore!" He ran both hands through already disheveled hair. His hair had grown long and was hanging in his eyes but he wasn't surprised that Alfred hadn't volunteered to trim it for him. _He's afraid to let me anywhere near anything sharp. Heck, he mostly serves me finger food these days. Good thing everybody here likes fried chicken. And burgers. I don't think I'm suicidal but I just want all this to stop! I want to go back to my life. I want to be Nightwing again and go on patrol, I want to fly again. I want to go home._

He heard footsteps outside the room and quickly sat down in the armchair again, pushing his hair out of his eyes again. The door opened and an anxious Bruce ushered a small woman into the room. She was tiny with curly, shoulder-length dark hair and warm brown eyes. No suit, casually dressed, about forty-five, he guessed. Looked like she might have some Roma blood in her. No obvious weapons and didn't look especially athletic. Dick stood.

"Dick, this is Dr. Callie Gold, the psychiatrist that Leslie recommended," Bruce said. Dick reached out his right hand and gave her his best charming smile.

She blinked and smiled tightly back, returning the hand clasp. "Dick. I'm pleased to meet you. Mr. Wayne...Bruce...and Leslie have told me about you. Why don't we get acquainted." She nodded at Bruce, who closed the door, leaving the two of them alone in the room.

"I suppose that the first thing I need to ask you is whether you give your permission to surveil our sessions. He seemed to feel that he needed to protect you," she said. "Otherwise, your sessions would be completely confidential, between the two of us." She adjusted her glasses. "And if you tell me that he isn't allowed to know what we talk about, I'll tell him so and we'll make other arrangements."

Dick's smile became ironic and he snorted. "For Bruce's sake, at least, I'll say it's okay. I know that he's worried about me." His smile faded. "I'm worried about me, too. At the very least, if I break and start acting on the voices, he's the one who has to take me down. So, yeah, somebody needs to know what's going on with me."

_He really is afraid of what he might do._ She leaned back in her chair, bringing her notepad and pen up. _He doesn't look so dangerous; he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and one of the saddest._ "Why don't you tell me about yourself, Dick."


	39. Saving Dick

CHAPTER 39

Author's Note: I'm playing fast and loose with Dick's timeline, but for dramatic effect, so yes, he packed a whole lot into his adolescence! Also, the * refers to a previous story of mine: "In re Robin", available at ffnet.

Also, many thanks to those of you who took the time to review! Even if I wasn't able to respond, I truly appreciated each e-mail! And yes, we are in the home stretch.

But remember, I love to hear from you! 

* * *

><p>2 hours later<p>

"...And when I woke up, I was in my bedroom strapped down to the damned bed!" Dick finished, rubbing his wrists. "Those restraints reminded me too much of being Ultraman's prisoner." He quavered and took a long drink of water from the carafe at his elbow. "And they were just like the ones Pennyworth and Owlman used," he muttered before his voice went entirely.

"I can see that being restrained would bring back a lot of bad memories for you," Callie said softly. "Do you dream about your captivity?"

Dick nodded vehemently. "Constantly. And sometimes I kinda hallucinate and think that I'm back, with Owlman and I'm his talon. And sometimes, I'm still in the ruins of the Watchtower and Ultraman's threatening to put me into something he called the 'murder machine'. "

" 'Murder machine'? What is that?" she jotted something down, her notebook already half-full.

"Another name for a specially built prison for Darkseid, if the League ever catches him. It's intended to restrain someone of his powers, indefinitely. It's pretty powerful and, if it's overloaded, it could blow up the entire Eastern Seaboard at one go. Johnny Quick found it the second day they had me and made me explain it's function...under the Lasso of Submission," he looked away from Callie, ashamed.

"As I understand it, the Lasso of Submission gives you no choice but to answer. There's no shame in that," she said. "You shouldn't blame yourself.'

Still looking at the floor, Dick said, "That was before I remembered to be extremely literal in my interpretation of their questions. They got a lot out of me before then. Batman trained me for situations like this, but I forgot. I forgot everything he'd told me. If I hadn't been so stupid...!"

Callie shook her head. "Try hungry, exhausted, in pain and traumatized, Dick. They wore down your resistance..."

"No! I shouldn't just break like that. That's now how Batman trained me!" Dick shouted. "I've been captured before. I've been tortured by the best! I was handling this kind of stuff when I was eleven years old and I break now? Now when I've been an active hero for so long? This is all my fault! All of it. Somehow, I lost my edge." Not for the first time, her patient jumped up from his chair and paced around the room. She reflected that he looked very young, although he was listed as being 25 years old in the biographies she'd read.

"Do you think that Bruce blames you? Has he said anything?" Callie craned her neck, trying to follow Grayson's frantic movement.

"No, he hasn't," Dick stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. He was still blond but the dark roots had started to come in. "But he doesn't need to. I know what happened and who died because of it."

"You said that you were handling capture and torture when you were eleven. Did anything like this happen to you then?" She was becoming concerned. Grayson, who clearly had a good case of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder related to his recent activity, might also be reacting to older, suppressed trauma as well.

"Well, yeah," he said, sitting down again. "Harvey Dent, also known as Two Face got jealous because Batman had a new partner who was a kid. He trapped me into playing a game I couldn't win, executed the judge I was trying to save in front of me." He swallowed hard. "Batman was there, a captive too. He told me not to play but I didn't listen. Then Dent started to beat me with a baseball bat. "

"Batman rescued you, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but only after I was unconscious. Batman saw the whole thing, he had to save me because I couldn't save myself! I had a broken arm, couple of broken ribs, concussion. Took a while recovering completely." Again, he looked away.

"And after that, he let you back on the streets?" she asked, frowning. "Didn't anyone notice that Robin had been injured like that? Where was Child Protective Services?"

Dick gave a short laugh. "Oh, them. Yeah, after Dent went to trial and I testified, they took me away from Batman and put me into a bunch of different foster homes. Turned out, I was safer with him than without him. Another kid died in my place because he put on my uniform before that became clear!"*

"So, when you were in foster care, trying to live like an ordinary child, somebody died because he put your uniform on? Sounds like your life wasn't safe unless you hid behind the mask," she mused.

"Now you understand the problem," Dick commented. "I don't have the mask anymore, so I don't dare go out as either Nightwing or as Dick Grayson. And added to that, I just can't shake Owlman's programming."

"Tell me about that. What is that like?"

"They used drugs and some kind of hypnosis to make me believe that I was their Dick Grayson, that Thomas Wayne had raised me and I was..." Dick's bright blue eyes grew dull. He forced the rest of the words out. "That I was a murderer, someone who had enjoyed killing for its own sake since I was a child. They sicced me on Batman and I stabbed him, but I didn't aim right to take him out. He survived. Batman thinks that subconsciously I knew it was him and missed the strike. All I know is that I wanted him dead and did my best to make him die." He was looking down again, hands clasped between his knees.

"Do you still want him dead?" she asked.

"Me? Oh no! No, no, no!" Dick looked up quickly, eyes wide. "He's my fa...He took me in when I had nobody, no family, and the Child Welfare people wouldn't let me stay with the circus. He's treated me like a...a...son, made me his partner. I owe him!"

She watched her patient closely. He looked hag-ridden and close to panic. "Dick," she asked gently. "Just how old are you. Really?"

Dick looked up suddenly. "I'm twenty five," he said confidently.

"No, you aren't," Callie said. "What's your real age?"

Dick looked down again. "I'm nineteen," he mumbled.

"Why does the world think you're six years older than you are? How old were you really, when Dent attacked you?" She gripped her notepad in fury. Oh, she was going to talk to Wayne, all right.

"I...ahem...I was nine. Batman told people I was older than I really was to justify the independence he gave me. Then he had my birth certificate modified to make me even older. Then later, when he threw me out, I was able to live on my own, legally."

Callie adjusted her glasses. "He threw you out? How old were you? Your real age?"

He looked up again. "Fifteen. I was active in the Titans and Batman didn't like that much. I kept skipping patrol, or arriving late. Finally, the Joker shot me and he...he fired me. Said it was too dangerous for me to be Robin anymore."

"So, let me get this straight, you are nineteen and have been a vigilante for the past ten years and have been Batman's partner for most of that time. You were a Bludhaven police officer before you were even a legal adult, and nobody thought you seemed...young?"

Dick grinned. "You don't argue with test scores, I was top of my class at the academy. I just...acted older. And since I work out, the muscles fill my body out, so I look older. Back in the circus, I got used to being independent and being Robin just added to it. So what if I went to college at fourteen? People see what they expect to see. My girl friend is six years older than I am!"

"So, you've never lived away from Bruce and Gotham for very long, have you?"

"Not really," Dick replied. "I mean, I was at college for a term, but then I gave it up and stayed with the Titans in New York for a bit. Bludhaven was probably the longest I was away from Gotham. "

"Bludhaven is Gotham's sister city," Callie said. "You could be at the manor in an hour."

"Faster if you don't pay attention to speed limits," Dick said with a cheeky grin. "I ate a lot of Alfred-cooked meals until I figured out how to scramble eggs myself."

"You've never, really, been apart from Batman since he took you in," she said. "What were your plans for the future before all this happened?" she waved her hand.

"I was just going to stay here, I guess," Dick frowned. "I had an apartment in Gotham, but I patrolled with Batman or one of the allies regularly. I mean, that's...that _was._..my job." His face changed, loss painted all over it. He hitched a deep breath. "I am and have always been ready to help Batman whenever and wherever he needs me."

"Is Bruce as loyal to you?"

"Yes," Dick responded simply. "When the Syndicate had me, I knew it was only a matter of time before Batman came for me. I just had to survive long enough for him to get there." He rubbed his nose thoughtfully. "I'm not sure that even death would stop him."

She leaned back in her chair, suddenly exhausted. Going by the dark shadows under her patient's blue eyes, she knew that he was just as tired. She was about to call a halt when there was a light tap at the door. Alfred gently opened it and poked his head in.

"Dr. Gold, you have been in session some two and a half hours. A break is in order. Some tea, perhaps?"

She checked her watch. "Oh my, look at the time! I'm sorry, Dick, I completely lost track during our discussion. You must be exhausted. Why don't we pick this back up again tomorrow at the same time. I'll keep the sessions short from now on. Is that all right with you?"

"That's fine, Doc," Dick said. "I didn't notice the time either. We gonna meet every day?"

"I was thinking Monday through Friday for the moment, about an hour each time. Will that work for you?" she asked.

"Yeah. I got nothing else to do," Dick replied. "But...um...thanks for taking me on. I know that working for Bruce isn't the easiest thing in the world. He can get a little..."He struggled for a word.

"Mule-headed, over-protective and controlling?" offered the butler. "Have no fear, Dr. Gold, Mr. Wayne thinks highly of you. The fact that he retained you after your initial interview shows that. He does want to touch base with you before you go, if you have a moment."

"All right," she glanced back at Dick. "Dick? You did say...?"

"Go ahead," he said with a grin and waved her off with a hand. "He wants to grill you about the session and find out what I said about him. That's fine. He's just being Bruce."

"All right," she said. "I do have a few things I want to say to him as well. I guess we're done for the day. Until tomorrow, Dick."

She followed Alfred back to Wayne's study and found that the tea service had been refreshed with a stack of neatly cut sandwiches. Suddenly feeling hungry, she was glad of them.

Bruce helped himself then passed her the tray. "Well? What do you think?"

His manner was calm, but she read the anxiety in his voice. Based on what Dick had told her, clearly he and Bruce had a very close, tangled, probably codependent relationship.

Best to start with the simple and obvious. The ways in which Dick's relationship with Bruce might have affected him could be dealt with later when she knew more about their dynamic.

She settled into her chair. "He's suffering from PTSD, some of it stemming from recent events but also, I suspect, some dating from his childhood when he was assaulted by," she checked her notes. "Harvey Dent and later was placed into foster care." She met Wayne's eyes. "Clearly, your identity as Batman never came out during the various court cases."

Wayne sighed. "No, we were dealt with purely as 'Batman' and 'Robin because of, I suspect, Commissioner Gordon's influence. I had thought...hoped...that Dick had forgotten all that. Children are so resilient and he bounced back quickly once he got home and resumed his life again..."

"Resumed his life both as Robin and as your ward?" She tapped her pen against her folder. "I imagine that all the old baggage has been triggered by the onslaught of the new. He's been forced to abandon the masks that have protected him since childhood. In his experience, his safety lies in being associated with you. Separation from you has tended to result in catastrophe; he said that another boy died?"

Wayne grimaced. "Yes. Another boy, wearing the Robin uniform. We allowed the world to believe for a while that Robin had been murdered to give us enough time to put him into some safer placement."

"But, I take it, it wasn't safer?"

"No. It wasn't. But he isn't separated from me now. He's here, at the mansion," Wayne put down the sandwich he'd mangled and picked up a fresh one.

"He's here, but he has no role. He's lost his identity, his name, his mask. And if I was able to guess that you are Batman, others may as well, just because of his relationship to you. Dick knows that he can't stay here; he just hasn't discussed it with you, yet." She watched him closely, sipping Alfred's excellent tea.

"He can't leave! He can't defend himself and half a dozen criminals are looking for him!" Wayne said. "And he's still hearing voices."

"I imagine he is, and some of them might just be his own," she said, without thinking, then pulled herself short. Uh-oh, dangerous territory.

"What?" Wayne's face paled. "Those voices were supplied by Thomas Wayne and his butler, not by Dick himself! He's been fighting against them ever since we got him home! He tried to kill himself to shut them down!" By now Wayne stood upright, shouting. Callie felt sympathetic but remained where she was. She had promised herself that she would be honest with this man and with Dick, always. Try to break this to him smoothly.

"Has it ever occurred to you that Dick needs to grow up and determine his own life and destiny?"

Feeling silly, Bruce sat back down. "What? What does that have to do with his being brainwashed by Owlman?" he said tautly, still angry.

"I'll admit that he was certainly drugged; his bloodwork is bizarre at best. And there is no question of his love and loyalty to you, both as Bruce Wayne and as Batman. But that loyalty may be what's killing him," she said.

"Are you telling me that all this, his attacking me, his 'voices' were all caused by himself?" he demanded.

"No. But what I am saying is that Dick is a very mixed up young man-boy, really-right now. He told me how you altered his age in the public records so that he moved out when he was only sixteen. He's been treated like an adult since he was nine years old, carrying an adult's responsibility. He's a nineteen year old teenager who is pretending to be twenty-five! What kind of childhood did he ever have?"

"Not much of one," Bruce muttered. "Alfred and I tried, but the mission..."

"Yes, the mission." Her Irish temper roused. "Saving Gotham is your obsession, I know, and you dragged him along with you. Put succinctly, away from you, Dick Grayson has no idea who he is. He has no plans for the future aside from sticking close to you and trying to be there when he's needed. He has no individual goals of his own, separate from your goals. He's been trying to separate from you for years...to grow up. Now, this Thomas Wayne comes along and tells him that he can be separate from you, but at the cost of his earliest loyalties. I think that some of what Owlman was pushing was tempting to your son because it meant some self-determination."

Face even whiter, Bruce leaned towards this annoying quack of a doctor. "Self-determination if he became a murderer and a thief and everything he knows is wrong! Only if he sold his soul for it."

"At least he knew that he had one to sell!" Callie leaned forward herself. "You and he are too damned close! He needs air! And space! And enough distance to learn for himself just who he is and who he can become, away from Batman's side!"

Wayne's blue eyes turned to points of steel. "You just said that he's not safe, now that all the masks have been stripped away. If he leaves here, a dozen criminals will take him down, some to steal his abilities, others to kill him and still others to torture all the secrets of the Justice League and its heroes out of him! He needs to be protected!" Wayne was standing again, his face flushed, fists clenched.

Callie stood up and glared back from her five foot one height to his six four. "If he can simply be himself somewhere, without the trappings of..of...of Bruce Wayne or Batman or Nightwing or any of the spandex-clad lunatics who infest our world, he might have a fighting chance!" She was shouting now, too.

"Out! Get. OUT!" Wayne roared, pointing towards the door of the study. "Get out of my house and stay away from Dick Grayson! I don't know why I let Leslie talk me into this...And if you tell a single soul about Batman, I'll..."

Gritting her teeth, Callie strode towards the door and turned. "I'm not telling a soul, Mr. Wayne, but it's not to protect you. It's to protect that boy in there! He's been carrying the burden of your expectations all his life and finally something broke! Now it's up to you to pick up the pieces." She shouted, then stood panting and finished in a quieter voice. "If you need me, call me, night or day. He needs help, Mr. Wayne, my kind of help and not your kind."


	40. Whatever it takes

Yeah, I know, this is taking me forever. But the story will be finished and the last chapter is the next one! So, as usual, I'd love to hear from you, send me e-mails! Posts! Feedback! It's what I write for. Well, that and torturing the Bat-Family.

CHAPTER 40

Storming past a startled butler, she ran down the grand staircase and out to her car. Swiftly, the shoved it into gear and raced down the gravel drive and through the gates the instant they opened. She felt the angry tears running down her cheeks, undoubtedly smearing her mascara. Damn him! That damned arrogant SOB of a bazillionaire...She ran a hand over one eye. She hoped that he hadn't seen her tears before she'd gotten the HELL out of his office! And that poor boy! If she'd just kept her mouth shut and fed Wayne some platitudes, she'd still be in a position to do some good.

Finding a wide spot in the road, she parked under an oak tree and fished out her cell phone. The call was picked up quickly; Leslie was waiting to see how it had gone.

"Hi, Leslie," she said shakily. "I fucked it up. Royally."

"I doubt that," Leslie replied cheerfully. "Bruce recognizes good people. I'm sure you impressed him."

"No, I don't think so," she wadded a kleenex in her free hand and tried to wipe her nose. "He shouted me out of his office and told me never to come back."

"Hmmmm," Leslie said thoughtfully. "That _is_ a setback."

"Excuse me," Callie snuffled. "But why aren't you more upset? Wayne has just forbidden me from treating his son."

"Just what was it you said that set him off?" Leslie asked.

"I talked to Dick for about two hours and got a good idea of the life he's been leading for the past ten years. He's been a masked vigilante since he was nine years old! He moved out at fifteen and has no plans for the future except supporting Wayne whenever called upon. I've seen some incestuously close family relationships before but this one takes the cake!"

"I hope you didn't use the word 'incestuous'," Leslie said. "That alone would set Bruce off. He's been fighting off whispers of child sexual abuse for years. And there is nothing like that going on, for the record."

"No, there isn't," Callie agreed. "I didn't use that word. I just indicated that he needed to cut the cord, that Dick has been trying to separate from him for years and doing some growing up on his own...and away from Wayne! I said that some of the voices compelling Dick are his own, that he needs to finally be independent. "

"Hmmm...you have to understand, Cal, that Bruce lost his own family very young. He holds on tightly to the family he has built since then. He and Dick have been close, ever since the Batman and Robin days."

"That's not a bad thing, but my patient is a very confused young man. He seems to be very loyal to Batman, so much so that I suspect he has no sense of self, much less of self-preservation." She sighed and picked up her water bottle. "At this point, I don't know what to do."

"But aside from that, how is he?" Leslie said, forcing a laugh out of Callie.

"Dick? He's got a good case of PTSD along with Adjustment Disorder. For the moment, I think he needs talk therapy and a course of antidepressants until his brain chemistry normalizes. I can call the prescription in to your office. For the rest, I don't think Wayne will let me near him," Callie looked down at the ragged ball of tissue in her hand. "I let my temper out and told Wayne a few home truths that should have waited for a better time."

"He can take it," Leslie replied. "For the time being, I'd suggest calling your patient directly and seeing what he'd like to do. You did say that Dick needs to be more independent?"

Callie brightened. "You're right. I'll tell you, Leslie, I got distracted by Bruce Wayne's aura of control. Dick is of age. He can and should make his own decisions about treatment. But if I call him, I'm not going to find myself suspended from a sky-scraper by a batrope, will I?"

Leslie laughed. "I don't think so. And even if you do, I know some other bat-family members who care about Dick and would get you right back down again! Batman doesn't have the kind of control over his allies that he imagines he does."

"Well, thank goodness for that. Thanks, Leslie, I feel a little calmer now," Callie said, starting her car again. "I'll call you after I've spoken to Dick." 

* * *

><p>AT THE MANOR<p>

After she left for Bruce's office, Dick relaxed back into the comfortable armchair and composed himself for a nap. Man, he was tired. Between all the physical injuries and the nightmares, he just didn't feel alert anymore. More, he had to admit that his session with her had been one of the most thorough interrogations he'd ever sat through. Well, okay, maybe not an interrogation, but she'd made him start to think about things he'd never considered before. Of course, Bruce wasn't always right about everything. When Bruce 'adjusted' his paperwork to make him older, Dick had been completely on board. What teenager doesn't want to be grow up faster? Especially since all his Titan friends were older than he was, including both his girlfriends. He'd pretty behaved six years older all his life, although the Titans and Superman certainly had known the reality.

He pulled a pillow off the couch and propped it behind his neck. He tried to relax into sleep but couldn't turn his brain off. _She was shocked by everything I was doing before I was a real adult. But she seemed even more disturbed that I've never lived very far away from Bruce in all this time. What? Does she think I'm obsessed with him or something? _He punched the pillow and tucked it back under his head. _Or that he's obsessed with me? That's just stupid. Bruce and I are close friends, that's all. He's been like a fa...He's been my mentor all these years. He raised me to be self-reliant! Smart! Independent!_

_So how come I've never lived more than forty miles away from him, if I'm so independent? He even made it a rule that Robin should never hug Batman in public. Said it would make the crooks use Robin against Batman if they knew I mattered to him. _Dick frowned and gave up on the pillow. Suddenly, he needed to move. He got up and began to pace the room. _Of course, they used me anyway! I've lost count of the number of times I got kidnapped to get at the Bat! _

_And then Bruce adopts a street thief, not six months after driving me out of the batcave. He gave Robin to the new kid; he gave my name to somebody else! And even my old uniforms! Like Jay was some kind of walking, fighting duplicate of me.. Wait...where did all that come from? When Jason died, I felt bad! I was _never _jealous of Jason! I had my own life with the Titans and they were my family. When Jason got killed, I cried for the kid and I blamed Bruce for not training him well enough...Or did I feel guilty because I should have been the one who died? Bruce moved heaven and earth to get me the hell out of the Robin uniform before somebody could make it final and some other kid took the hit meant for me. He should have trusted me! I wouldn't have let the Joker kill me that easily, I was smarter than that! Dammit, Bruce! Jason shouldn't have died like that, and it was YOUR fault! Don't lay this one on me! _He discovered that he had pulled back his arm, ready to punch something and consciously relaxed.

He leaned against the window, watching the birds fly through Wayne Manor's extensive grounds. _Where did all that...that... come from just now? I should be grateful that Batman took me in, saved my life more times than I can count. Heck, he saved me from Owlman, even after I tried to kill him. I wanted to attack Batman so bad... I wanted to kill Bruce so bad...That's what Owlman made me: a killer. Or was I already one before that? Maybe that's why I never felt like I was a good enough Robin, why Bruce kept his distance. The older I got, the more remote he got until we were barely talking. Maybe all this really is my fault?_

He remembered the rage and the glee when he'd finally nailed the Bat. Something, deep inside, was satisfied when the big, bad Batman went down and the blood started to flow. Then he'd just felt sick to the pit of his stomach, joy fighting with shame. He'd accomplished his mission and knew that Thomas would be proud of him and for Thomas at least, he was finally good enough! But.. but...but...he'd killed Bruce Wayne, killed his fa...father! Yeah, admit it or not, he'd killed the man he thought of as a father! What kind of person was he, anyway, to take satisfaction in something like that?

All those mixed emotions had lightened a bit when he discovered that Bruce wasn't dead, but they were still there. And the shame, mostly that was what he felt. He wondered whether it really had been the drugs or if there was some deep resentment he'd held against Bruce that had given the brainwashing a foothold in his mind. He'd certainly been trying to make his own life, away from Bruce, for a long time. He'd moved to Bludhaven, but mostly because Bruce had asked him to investigate those deaths. He'd gone to the police academy and Bruce hadn't liked that at all, but Dick had kept him as an emergency contact just the same. Waking up in that hospital bed to find a glowering Bruce sitting there hadn't been fun. First words out of his mouth?

"You got shot. Again."

Dick frowned, remembering his own mix of embarrassment and anger at the implication that the former Robin was too inept to learn from the first time he'd been shot. He'd been furious with Bruce but so grateful that his he'd cared enough to come. Again, that mix of emotions. He felt his own stomach begin to roil again. He hadn't had much appetite since he'd awakened in the Batcave, somehow he just couldn't choke down food. He stilled, hearing loud sounds outside the door. He went over to listen. Was that Bruce who was shouting?

He opened the door, only to see Dr. Gold almost running down the hall to the front door. Bruce's voice was bellowing after her. No, it wasn't Bruce's voice, it was a furious Batman. What was going on? He straightened up and debated chasing down Dr. Gold, then decided to check on Bruce. He couldn't be very injured if he was putting out this kind of volume.

"Bruce! What's going on?" Dick shouted to be heard over his mentor's voice and ran into the man himself in the doorway of the study. Startled, Bruce flinched away, staring at Dick.

"What's happening?" Dick demanded. "Did she attack you or something? Was she an Intergang plant? What?"

Bruce made his way back to his desk and sat himself down. "Not exactly," he said and reached to pour himself a glass of water.

Dick just stared at him. "C'mon, Bruce. Batman was yelling like I haven't heard him since I was ten years old or so." He quirked a smile. "Or maybe fifteen, when you kicked me out of the Batcave."

"I'm...uh...I'm sorry about that, Dick, you know that, don't you?" Bruce said. "I've felt bad about that ever since. I hope you aren't still upset about that."

Dick stilled. "Do you want the truth? Yeah, but there's nothing I can do about it and it was a long time ago. You did what you needed to, I guess. But don't avoid the point. What was it Dr. Gold said that set you off like that? Um...I'm not gonna be the next Joker, am I?" He remained smiling, but his eyes were worried.

"Jok...Oh no, no, Dick," Bruce said. "Actually, she had more to say about the way I raised you, than anything else."

Dick sat down in the chair opposite the desk and folded his arms. "Oh. The Robin thing? She was pretty appalled at everything I was doing and how much freedom I had that young."

"She seems to think that I'm suffocating you," Bruce said, fiddling with his desk pen. "That I keep you too close to home; I stifle your ability to go out on your own."

"And that was what got you going?" Dick eyed Bruce curiously. "I've lived away from home before and she...well, I told her my real age. Most people don't move out at fifteen like I did. I was pretty independent. And besides, you wanted it." He looked away, hands hanging between his knees.

Bruce was silent for a moment, trying to find the words, then said, "She...uh.. thought that some of the murderous rage that made you stab me wasn't implanted in you. Some of the feelings were your own."

Thrown, Dick sat back. "She thought I really did want to kill you?"

"On some level, yes, and that it was justified," Bruce replied, looking away. "I just...well, I snapped at that point. We'll find another therapist for you, Dick. You're not a criminal and not a killer, no matter what Thomas did to you!"

"Thanks, Bruce, I'm glad you have faith in me," Dick blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But, she might have a point."

"What? That you really wanted to kill me?" Bruce asked.

"I enjoyed sticking you with that knife," Dick replied flatly. "I feel really bad about it, and very very guilty and really...scared...that I might try something like that again, because I do _not_ know where all that rage came from.. I want...no, I need to find out how much of that was really me and what was the...the...programming. If I can want to kill that badly, don't you see, Bruce? How can I ever be a hero again, carrying that?"

"Wanting to kill isn't that terrible," Bruce said, voice low. "I've wanted to kill before, many times."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, when Joker killed Jason," Dick muttered.

"Not only then," Bruce said. "When your parents were...when they died. I wanted the man who did it and I wanted him gone! I was afraid he'd come back and finish the job. I had to fight with myself to leave him alive. I never told you how proud I was when you decided to turn Tony Zucco in to the police instead, after we caught him." He cleared his throat. "And I've wanted to kill...other times...whenever anyone hurt you...or tried to kill you..."

"So, when the Joker shot me...?" Dick focused his very blue eyes on Bruce's.

"I was ready to wring his stringy neck! But you had fallen over the side of the building and you didn't look very good. I had to get to you, fast, before you bled out," Bruce said. "I let him go, until you were safe."

"And then you threw me out of the batcave and blamed me for the whole thing!" Dick snapped, suddenly at his feet. "I wasn't ready to go out there on my own! I was just a kid; I was too young! And you didn't care! I had to go to the Titans for that, for family..."

"You would have died if I hadn't!" Bruce shouted back. "You were too distracted by the Titans and you were getting sloppy! I saved your life!"

"Yeah, and Jason took the hit meant for me!" Dick finished, then stopped. "Bruce, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that..."

"Yes, you did," Bruce said. "And you are right. That's why I put his uniform up in a case, to remind me that I am responsible for every life I put at risk. Including yours." He shook his head and sat down again, motioning Dick to do likewise. "What to you want to do about Dr. Gold?"

"Maybe I need her, Bruce," Dick said slowly, looking down at his hands. "I think, maybe I should keep seeing her. It sounds like there's a lot I have to talk about. And maybe you and I do, too."

Bruce took a deep breath and met Dick's eyes. "If it helps you, then I'll do whatever it takes." He reached a hand over the desk and the two shook on it. "But maybe you should be the one to call her."

Dick grinned. "Okay, I'll call her." 

* * *

><p>After the door closed behind Dick, Bruce Wayne was vaguely embarrassed. He didn't like to lose control of himself the way he had with Dr. Gold. He knew better, but that woman somehow had the ability to get under the regulated calm that Batman required. Worse yet, he'd just agreed to joint therapy with Dick.<p>

"Excuse me," the door opened slowly and Alfred poked his head in. "I understand that Dr. Gold has left for the day?" He slid into the room. "Or is it forever?"

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I...um…lost my temper. But Dick feels that he needs her, so I'll go along with it."

"Indeed. Do you dispute her findings?" Alfred moved over and began clearing the sandwiches away, delicately putting the two mangled sandwiches onto a plate.

"I don't know," Bruce said. "I was offended by what she had to say but she did make some salient points. Alfred," he leaned forward, " Are Dick and I too close?"

Alfred set his tray down and pulled a chair over to sit opposite his employer. "In what respect?"

"She seemed to think that I'm suffocating Dick somehow, that by being near me, Dick isn't able to be independent or to completely grow up," he said. "But Dick has always been able to make up his own mind. When he was Robin, he used to argue with me all the time and sometimes he was right! He created and led the Titans without any help from me. I'm proud of what he's done with his life so far. Even joining the Bludhaven P.D. I certainly didn't encourage that! How can she say that I'm holding him back?" Perplexed, Bruce held both hands up.

"Ah," the old butler said, rubbing his nose. "There is no doubt that you and Master Dick have had your disagreements over time, but I believe that I understand her point. In the end, Master Dick has always returned home to the Manor to resume some variant of his original…er…role, as your most trusted lieutenant. If you were to ask Master Dick who the most important person in his life is, I think that he would say that you are. For a child, of course a parent fills that role."

"But for an adult?" Bruce asked.

"For an adult, that is often one's spouse or there is no one in particular," Alfred said. "Although you have tried in the past to discourage Dick from pursuing the family…erm…business, he persists in his intention to..what was it he said as a child? Oh. He intends to 'watch your back, because somebody has to.' And yet, you have others who are capable of filling that role, but they step back in the face of the special relationship between you and your oldest son. "

Bruce's face twisted in a smile. "Dick brought that up, that I adopted Jason but not him. But Dick is family, he should know that. And I've given him space, haven't I? I've gone for long periods without asking for his help, but he's…"

"He's turned up anyway, yes sir, I know. But he's never truly been on his own, has he? College was a brief experiment, spent primarily moonlighting as Robin. Bludhaven ended badly," Alfred said.

"He was trying to get himself killed back then, too, over his failure to prevent Desmond's murder. If he'd only come to me…" Bruce said.

"But he couldn't, sir. He was afraid that your good opinion of him would change, and that opinion appears to be the only thing that sustains him," Alfred said. "You are, and have been, his focus since he was orphaned. He compares himself to you, always negatively." Alfred shook his head.

"He's better than I am!" Bruce snapped, getting up to pace the room. "He grew up with light surrounding him. He was able to laugh and enjoy life. His childhood wasn't lonely and dark like.."

"Like yours, sir? He had his first taste of darkness at eight when his parents died, then his second when he met the real face of evil a year later. He's had his own share of darkness and, I had thought, dealt with it admirably. Until now," Alfred said with a sigh. "But he has no other life seemingly available to him. What is he left with, now that can't be your chief lieutenant? He has no other resources."

Bruce's face twitched into a half smile. "He didn't really have any hobbies as a child, did he?"

"Law, CSI, computer science, lock-picking, disguise, escapology and gymnastics," Alfred ticked off each on his fingers. "He was never one to take up stamp-collecting, was he? Perhaps it's time the lad expanded his boundaries?"

"I'm not going to throw him out again," Bruce growled. "He wouldn't last five minutes out there. And he'd never forgive me," he added in an undertone.

"That is not my suggestion," Alfred replied coolly. "Let him continue his treatment, then, sir, let him go."

"Go? Go where?" Bruce asked.

"Wherever his heart takes him. Let him discover the world on his own. Money certainly isn't an object here. He could study at the Sorbonne, his French is certainly good enough. Or perhaps refine his defensive skills at some dojo in Japan. Or even work with the Kents on their farm as the new laborer."

Bruce smiled. "Wouldn't that be something? Dick feeding and milking the Kent's cows. He'd be safe there, for certain."

"But, in the meantime, reopen contact with Dr. Gold," Alfred said. "If you wish, I can contact her."

Bruce shook his head. "No, Alfred. I've already agreed with Dick to call her back. Dick is contacting her." 

* * *

><p>Callie was surprised when her cell rang and it was Richard Grayson on the line. "Dick? Does Bruce know you're calling me?"<p>

She heard a snorted laugh, then Dick said, "Who do you think told me to call? I just had a talk with him and to say he feels embarrassed about the way he treated you is an understatement!"

"Then you want to continue treatment?" she asked.

"I think that I _need_ to continue the treatment," Dick said. "But maybe it would be better if I went to your office instead."

"But...isn't that dangerous? Mr. Wayne implied that half a dozen assassins are after you?"

"They've been trying to kill me since I was ten years old. No big. I'll just wear a disguise. So when and where do we meet up, Doc?" Dick said breezily.

She doubted that it would be that simple but had to admit that spending more time at Wayne Manor didn't give her a fuzzy warm feeling. "How about tomorrow at 1 p.m.? 1600 Park Manor Place, suite 15? Oh, and I have some medication I want you to start taking."

"Drugs? Haven't I had enough of those?"

"You certainly have, but I think some anti-depressants might help you remain functional, just to tide you over until the alien drugs are out of your system. I'll call them in to Leslie's office and have her bring them over for you. Is that okay?" She could hardly believe that after all that anguish, Bruce was letting Dick get psychiatric treatment. Maybe there was hope, after all.

"Okay, I'll do what you want. See ya tomorrow!" Dick said and ended the call.


End file.
